


Immortal Memory

by Vidicon666



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Highlander: The Series
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 76,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidicon666/pseuds/Vidicon666
Summary: Buffy. Rome. The Immortal. Post Season 7. Nothing to do with the comics.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author’s note:**
> 
> **This is not what you think it is. And yet, in some ways, it will be. Chapters will get longer as the story progresses. Written as a hommage to a deceased actor.**
> 
> **This story has been previously posted on Twisting the Hellmouth. I will post two or three chapters a week here, but if you cannot resist, you can find it there. But let me know here or there if you enjoyed it.**
> 
> **Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Immortal**

Buffy Summers was rather glumly looking at the river Tiber and throwing stones into it. For the past few months she'd been involved in a charade to get closer to an ancient being, demonic or otherwise, known as the Immortal.

The charade she'd been involved in had been a double one, the first part dealing with her being kept far from Rome and beating up demons in all sorts of shoe-ruining places, while some junior Slayer walked around Rome in lovely Loboutins magically altered to look like her and trying to get the Immortal to spill by employing her, that is Buffy's, charms. 

Buffy had not been amused. At all. Especially when it became clear that the Immortal was some dweeb from some long-lived magical race who'd done some spiel on lots of people and was waiting for the real Immortal to show up so he could kill them.

So no, Buffy had not been amused. The whole thing had driven another wedge between her and Giles, and also her and Dawn, who had collaborated, intrigued as she'd been with a being supposed to be as old as the Immortal, who'd been around, 'like forever'.

Willow thankfully had refused to have anything to do with the scheme when it was hinted at her she should create a Buffy double, so Giles had found a less salubrious witch of his acquaintance to do it. Of course, Willow had thought he'd dropped the matter until the grapevine had told her that Buffy was dating some Immortal in Rome, when she knew Buffy was very much elsewhere. That had caused Willow to alert Buffy, which had at least partly healed the rift between them.

Giles hadn't spilled which witch, yet, but Buffy was working on it, through other channels and Willow was helping. They both wanted a word with that one, too. And Buffy'd had a long conversation with Guinevere, the Slayer who'd agreed to impersonate her. Even though she could understand that with a name like Guinevere she'd loved being Buffy for a while. 

And the so-called Immortal, who was now some indefinable stain on the floor after Buffy took his head off. With an axe. While taking her time.

She'd made enough mistakes about relationships on her own that she didn't want some random demon dude to be able to boast to be a Slayer-layer and corroborate it with intimate details of her body. 

She looked up as a pair of hands, folded, appeared beside her on the broad marble balustrade. It was some junior Watcher Giles had found somewhere, from 'the alternate branch' he hadn't told her had existed before, nor what it did, even now. 

That worried her too.

“Lira for your thoughts?” he offered.

“We're using Euros here now,” she reminded him. “Also, weren't lira, like, totally worthless, if you didn’t have a gazillion of the things?”

“Well, I wasn't going to offer much for something I can already make a pretty good guess at,” he shrugged. 

She glared. “Talk of the town, am I?”

“Among some of those who know. I fear that a great many supernatural beings believe you were at least partially taken in by 'The Immortal', if not wholly fooled by him”

“Great. So much for my reputation,” Buffy muttered. 

“It was silly anyway, had Rupert asked me I could have told him that the one he set that poor girl to pursue was hardly older than four centuries or so. He's been here, claiming the title, hoping for the real one to show up and then kill him and take his power,” the guy shook his head. “I mean really. Just because legend says he shows up in Rome every fifty years or so? How dumb is that? He didn't know when he was supposed to come, or where. He could be a mile away eating lasagne, while 'Mr I am so Immortal' was practicing his swordmanship in an idle hope to defeat him.” 

“Kill him and take his power?” Buffy asked. “How does that work? What kind of demons are they?”

He looked at her. “Rupert didn't even tell you that? Mostly they're human, or they're mostly human. The difference is that if they die or are killed due to a non-natural death, they revive and do not age after that. Then they can only be killed by their heads being cut off. The 'Junior Council' as the old guard used to call us, is dedicated to watch them and learn as much about them, their history and through them human history as we can.”

“Ah. So good thing I did the head-chopping thing then,” Buffy said. 

“Impressively so. Many should take note and behave accordingly,” he smiled at her. “Now you are wondering why I told you this, while Rupert kept silent.”

“Because he doesn't trust me with the information and you do,” Buffy said bitterly. “Probably because I don't trust him.”

“If he treats you this way, rightly so,” he nodded. “But you are the Slayer and the head of the Council. Or the most senior Slayer, since I have no idea what is going to happen after the Great Calling. But at any rate, the Council of Amaleku was used as a breeding pond. Those members who, after observing for a while, started to look into other legends, and found the truth behind them, and didn't go insane, could be recruited as full members.”

“What about you?” Buffy asked.

“Oh, I've known for a while, but those old council fellows, they were dreadful people. Rude, obnoxious,” he grinned at her roguishly. “And now you're thinking 'He's rather charming. Why can't I remember his name?'”

She glared at him, and he laughed. 

“It's Adam, Adam Pierson.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> **Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 2**

Buffy didn't really know how she'd found herself at Adam's place. He'd been quite clear that he knew she just needed to vent, and wasn't reading anything into it. 

She was leaning on a sort of bar he'd made in a doorway into the small kitchen that really only needed one doorway. The opening was handy for handing things through, though. The kitchen was compact, well equipped but apparently little used except for making coffee, storing snacks and whatever was in the top of the line fridge. She'd not been paying attention when he'd opened it to get the coffee.

Cliché though it was, Buffy had come up for coffee and he was pouring her something he called a 'cold brew'. Since it was still quite warm out in the Roman evening, that would be nice.

It was like coffee, without the boiling water. Thankfully he'd made some earlier.

She didn't feel like waiting the twelve hours Adam said it took until it was properly done.

The furniture was mismatched, as in from different eras. Highly modern pieces mixed with antique ones, though most of the antiques were vases and statuettes and one slightly larger than life-size statue he was using as a coat and hat stand. 

Giles and Dawn would be very annoyed, no doubt, about his sacrilege of using a valuable historic piece like that. Right now, she really liked that thought.

“Nice place,” she said.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “The water pressure isn't wonderful though.”

“At least the water isn't brown. Before we got hold of the Council's money, that was more usual than exceptional as we got back on our feet,” Buffy grimaced.

“My superiors in the so-called Junior Council weren't all that happy to hand the control of assets over to you, I seem to recall,” Adam agreed. “Though I will give Rupert credit for getting them to sign off on it.”

“Where did it all come from?” Buffy wanted to know. “Giles never told me.”

Adam handed her a cup, and a small plate with a little chocolate covered pastry puff. 

“Several ways. The first was donations back when governments still believed in demons. The other was that many of the older Immortals and demons had significant treasures, which the Council, both of them, happily appropriated. Then there were investments. Over the centuries, it all adds up.”

“Huh. Think that they might have paid Slayers at least a living wage with all that,” Buffy inhaled the gorgeous scent of the pastry. “They paid Giles. They even paid Wesley, and he sure wasn't worth the money.”

“Wyndham-Pryce? He's a complete tosser,” Adam sniffed. “He would've been banned from the Upper Class Twit of the Year Contest for being over-qualified.”

She smiled at him. Then she went to sit down on the couch, taking in the décor. There were lot of things that her mother would have called conversation pieces. “That's an interesting rifle,” she said politely after staring at it for a bit. It seemed out of character for Adam. She could understand daggers or swords, with his earlier specialization, but he seemed a little too mild-mannered to actually use a weapon.

“A cousin of my father's brought that back from Africa,” Adam said, sitting down as well. “He was part of a group of, well I suppose that mercenaries is the best word for them, though they did try to fight on the side of what you might also term as 'good'. They went to try and liberate a democratically elected head of an African state and succeeded, but were betrayed. That was a friend's.”

“Why not his own?” Buffy asked.

“He took those with him when he went into the Wilds of Africa to avenge his friends,” Adam shrugged. “He never came back. This one no longer works.”

Buffy nodded. “Did they name themselves anything? Like those old time Consigliere guys here in Italy?”

“Condottiere,” Adam smiled at her. “As you very well know.”

She stuck her tongue out, then sipped the coffee and nibbled the pastry, closed her eyes and hummed with pleasure.

“The Wild Geese. They called themselves the Wild Geese.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End Note:**
> 
> **And there you have a hint at the reason I actually started writing this.**
> 
> ***************************************************************


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note:**
> 
> [ **The Wild Geese** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wild_Geese) **is a movie starring Sir Roger Moore. But sorry, that’s about all you’re gonna get right now…**

**Chapter 3**

“Rough day at the office?” a warm voice asked as Buffy sat scowling.

Various young men, who might have liked very much to join her at her little café table, had very swiftly decided not to do so upon seeing that scowl.

She looked up, still scowling, but this particular man wasn't, apparently, impressed. Or at least bothered. He sat down and waved a waiter down. The waiter too, had tried to avoid the angry blonde.

He reluctantly came closer and Adam ordered for them both. Buffy scowled at them both.

“I assume either Rupert or your sister did something stupid again?” Adam asked after the coffee and cake had been delivered. “However, considering your emotional state and that no-one can hurt you as much as a loved one, and you seem to have shaken the dust of Giles-land off your boots, I would guess your sister.” 

“Dawn,” Buffy agreed, tersely.

“Still unwilling to take responsibility?” Adam asked

Buffy growled. 

“That a ‘no’, or a ‘hell no’?” Adam grinned at her, then pushed her plate with cake closer. “Try it. It's glorious.”

She stabbed the thing with the fork so hard that Adam feared she'd spear straight through the plate into the table. But Buffy had been a Slayer for years, and knew her strength, even when angry.

He was surprised the glare at him, and the forkful of pastry, didn't set both of them on fire. After all Buffy Summers was the closest to a real-life superhero there currently was and she might start showing all sorts of interesting abilities.

No-one quite knew what the source of the Slayer powers, and the expression of them, might transmute into when one was a Slayer for as long Buffy had been, after all. As well as all the other things that had happened to her during her, for lack of a better word, career. It was one reason why he'd let himself be talked into becoming a Watcher in the 'Senior Society'.

Bunch of wankers, those Watchers.

But he had more important things to do now, like ensuring that Buffy Summers didn't kill her sister in a fit of rage, and didn't get herself killed by a bunch of demons.

“She says she's sure it was all for the best,” Buffy sneered. “That she was surprised I didn't jump at the chance to date a morally suspect handsome guy.”

Adam lifted an eyebrow.

“She thinks I like bad boys, or at least guys with a little bit of the naughty in them, because of Angel and Spike,” Buffy explained.

“Ah. Well, being old would most likely mean that they'd seen and done a lot,” Adam shrugged. “But they might as well have been a slave as a king. More likely, even. There have always been more slaves than kings.”

Buffy glared at him. “So you agree with her?” 

“I don't know enough about you to know if you have a type, or just cling to someone who seems able to match you, or meet you half-way, or any of a dozen explanations,” Adam said. “Including ones a lot less flattering than what your sister said.”

“Like necrophilia? Even Xander didn't quite throw that in my face,” Buffy smiled. “Then again, he doesn't think they're dead. He thinks they're undead, which makes it a lot worse. But he's learned not to judge too harshly after the whole thing with Anya.”

“The Vengeance Demon. The one who showed remorse,” Adam nodded.

“Eventually,” Buffy agreed. “Xander admits he was really thinking with his dick the first time. I mean, she'd probably got a body count higher than Angel and Spike together. And why am I telling you this? I don't even know you that well and I'm telling you all about secrets one of my best friends only told me recently when he was drunk,” Buffy finished on a half whine, then closed her eyes. “This is glorious.”

“I used to be a barkeeper,” Adam smiled. “The beer was cheaper that way. But it's good to hear that the three of you are closer again. The younger Slayers and the Junior Watchers were worrying. Gossiping, but worrying. I can relieve their anxiety straight from the Slayer's mouth. Without the details, of course.”

Buffy sighed. “A lot happened, but they're still my best friends. Giles... Giles doesn't seem to think about anything but his 'greater good' anymore. Which makes me wonder if I can even trust him as little as I do now.”

Adam nodded compassionately. “He really hasn't done a very good job lately, has he?”

“Damn piss-poor job,” Buffy said. “To quote some Brit.”

Adam waved at the waiter again, who hurried up with another piece of pie.

“How did he know that?” Buffy asked, as the empty plate was removed and replaced. 

“He has a lot of experience of men cosseting women back into a good mood with their pastry,” Adam smiled. “Even if that is usually husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends and not Senior Slayers and Junior Watchers.”

“Yeah. I need to do something about that,” Buffy muttered, eating another forkful of pastry.

“I beg your pardon?” Adam said startled.

“I'm the Senior Slayer. If I insist, you can damn well totally get promoted. At least you seem to have some sense,” Buffy clarified, with a slight blush.

“Phew,” Adam mock-wiped his brow. “Here I thought you were going to bash me with your club and drag me off to your Slayer cave and have your way with me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Been there, done that. Minus the club and the dragging. 

“Really? How interesting,” Adam murmured. “So what did your sister really say?”

Buffy sighed and closed her eyes. 

Adam had noticed over the years that Slayers had a very good memory if properly prompted. “Was she really as blunt as that?” 

“She said I need a bit of bad in my boy. And that she expected me to hear about Guinevere ten minutes after the spell got done and she hadn't realised how good Giles was at compartmentalising the sharing of information. Of course, none of it is ever her fault,” Buffy took another bite. “She didn't call me because by the time she realised things were going wrong, she was already in too deep.”

“She is eighteen. That's not really adult, not emotionally,” Adam said. “The period between the teenage years and when the brain is finally fully developed, it's a time of lots of emotions, and of lots of mistakes. Also, beer, which tends to exacerbate those.”

“Maybe I should have let Giles poison her, instead of trying to save her. It would have saved a lot of trouble,” Buffy put her fork down. “There. I said it. Shocked?”

“After the things that recently happened and the whispers I heard about what happened in your house in Sunnydale, I can imagine you thinking and saying it. I can also imagine Dawn thinking it,” Adam said. “It can't be a very comfortable position, having been created, made a sacrifice and then living when everyone she loves is dead.”

“Are you defending her?” Buffy growled.

“I'm thinking that there are confused young women and then there is your sister,” Adam said. “I'm also thinking that there some dumb things you did when you were eighteen, even when you were the Slayer.”

Buffy glared at him some more. He was unfazed. “So what should I do? Go back and forgive all? Embrace her and let her do it all again?”

“I'd advise you to get a good psychologist, for the two of you,” Adam said. “I happen to know about few good ones, and for you they would be willing to come to Rome.”

Buffy speared the last bit of her pie and chewed it thoughtfully. “That... might not be a bad idea. Can we trust these guys not to spill about the supernatural?” 

Adam grinned. “They're Immortals. An old colleague of mine has an Immortal friend who knows them both and we'll do it through him. It will be fine.”

“Isn't it forbidden to have Immortal friends among you guys?” Buffy asked.

Adam raised an eyebrow. 

Buffy glared at him. “Oh, shut up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Buffy charged into the library of the Rome Headquarters of the Council of Slayers. Several of the junior-junior-junior Watchers ducked away. If the Senior Slayer was willing to deck her long time Watcher, who was now the Head Watcher they would no doubt get worse. A lot worse.

Adam looked up. She was covered in dust and vibrating with anger. “That's not vampire dust,” he noted. “Mummy? Did you go into the Isis catacomb?”

“Something kidnapped Dawn. And even if we haven't... well, I decided I owed it to Mom to at least try and rescue her,” Buffy replied. “But there were too many of them and they got away. And Caresima was injured. I took her to the hospital.”

“So they took her in spite of her bodyguard?” Adam got up. “They really must have wanted her then. Where did it happen?”

“Some little private library book shop thing near the Quirinal,” Buffy said. 

“Santangalo's,” Adam frowned. “That's not the kind of place I'd expect her to go. I wonder...”

He went to the front desk and flipped through a large book there, his eyes skimming over rows of neatly written lines, then fastening on one. His mouth turned into a straight, thin line. 

He strode over to a nearby cupboard and unlocked it, then took out a book on a chain and placed it on a lectern.

“That valuable?” Buffy asked. 

“Dangerous,” Adam said. “It deals with necromancy. It's the last Special Dawn wanted access too. Last week.”

“A special? That's the ones that need another, senior person's permission to look at, right?” Buffy looked at him. “You just took it.”

“You just got me kicked up the ranks all the way to Senior Researcher because my expertise and insight weren't being utilised enough and now you're gonna withhold permission?” Adam asked innocently. 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “So, any better ways to kill Mummies than chopping them to bits?”

“Fire. Destroying the altar on which they were embalmed,” Adam shrugged. “No heart to pierce and if you sew a limb back on after chopping it off, it'll be as good as new the day after. So I suggest plenty of matches, since no-one has ever been able to find the Altar of Isis.”

“What's so special about it? And why is there an altar to Isis in Rome anyway? Wasn't she like, totally Egyptian?” Buffy asked.

“The Mystery Cult of Isis was a widely spread one,” Adam replied. “There were worshippers in Londinium.”

“Huh,” Buffy frowned. “She was like, a mother-y goddess, right?”

“Some would describe her that way, yes,” Adam said. “But what in this case is most important is that she was the one who sewed Osiris back together and brought him back to life.”

“Crap,” Buffy scowled. “What was Dawn thinking?”

“You're afraid that she'll try and bring people back?” Adam asked.

“It wouldn't be the first time,” Buffy muttered. “Okay, what can you tell me about them? And the catacombs?”

“Isis mummies were created by an offshoot of the regular cult,” Adam explained. “They were considered an abomination and a heresy, by practically everyone living, so they were persecuted with great vigour. Considering that they used living, usually unwilling victims to make their mummies, not without reason.”

“Eeew yuck,” Buffy grimaced. “So let me guess, they like, cut them open and took out their organs while they were alive?”

“And then sewed them up and put them in certain salts and lyes and then did some magic,” Adam confirmed. 

“Hey presto, mummy,” Buffy sighed. 

“Yes. Of course the mummies are quite stupid. So if they actually emerged from the Catacombs of Isis, someone must have directed them.” 

“Great. What sort of bad are we talking about? Big? Little? Medium?”

Adam pursed his lips. “Between little and medium I'd say.”

“You don't seem very sure,” Buffy frowned.

“It depends,” Adam said. “If whoever is in charge has been there since ancient times, awake and aware, they might be the secret master of Rome. Or they may just have woken up. Or it is a secret cabal of priests, passing ever more corrupted versions of their cult down over generations, now barely able to command the mummies. But I'm guessing chances are bigger for the latter than the former, since I haven't, nor anyone else has, as a matter of fact, found traces of a secret master of Rome in any writings or reports.”

“The Immortal?” Buffy smiled. 

“He was coasting on another's reputation, and a myth and a rumour,” Adam pointed out. “And he was far too obvious to be secret, and a master of nothing except minor obfuscation.”

“You don't have a high opinion of him at all, do you?” Buffy asked.

“As I pointed out before,” Adam said with a look at the book, then putting it back and drawing out an ancient map of Rome's catacombs, “His plan was stupid and short-sighted. Tonight is the night of The Triple Star. According to that,” he pointed a thumb at the closet with the necromantic grimoire, “A night when a right and proper sacrifice might channel down the power of the goddess into the chosen priest. I assume your sister somehow conforms to the conditions.”

“How accurate is this map?”

“It's crap,” Adam said. “Or that altar would have been destroyed centuries ago. But it's all we have, and we have to be there before the three stars rise.”

“We?” Buffy asked.

“Are you able to read hieroglyphics?” Adam asked. “Greek? No? Want to bring Rupert?” 

Buffy scowled at him. 

“Then you're stuck with me,” Adam pointed out. “We'd better hurry.”

“There's one thing about this day you haven't mentioned,” Buffy said as they headed to the nearest entrance to the catacombs.”

“Which is?” Adam asked.

“It's Tuesday.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s note:**
> 
> **Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 5**

The Catacombs of Isis were, like all the catacombs cut in the soft tufa stone that underlay most of the City of Rome. The stone had been used to build houses and buildings and the resulting tunnels had been storage, burial places, the beginnings of sewers and water pipes. Augustus had found Rome a city of brick and tufa, before the marble had come in to clad it all.

The Cult of Isis, Mother of Death, as Adam had told her was the name they had chosen for themselves, had been forced far underground by the persecution. Since they made a habit of sacrificing people to make into zombies, or for other reasons, Buffy really didn't feel for their lack of fresh air and sunlight.

She was happy she'd picked up a few Minis to help her, since she really doubted a researcher for people who spent their time unobtrusively observing a bunch of Immortals would be any good at fighting.

Even if he apparently knew a lot about the guy Dawn and Giles had wanted to match her up with. The actual Immortal, who was called Mythos, or Methos, which sounded made up to her, like a myth. She wondered how many Immortals had claimed the mantle of the legendary ‘oldest one’. 

Maybe it wasn't a person so much as a title. Every oldest Immortal was called Methos. When one died, a new one got called. Just like a Slayer. The current one was supposed to be five thousand years old.

It was a bit strange to think that he was already two and a half thousand years old or so when the city of Rome had supposedly been founded, which again was long centuries before these tunnels had been dug.

Maria 'Candy' Di Capua and Maria 'Peggy' Pagliacci, were taking up the rear and Adam walked in the middle, carrying a torch and what he referred to as 'also a torch', instead of sensibly as a flashlight.

Stupid Briticisms.

She'd have liked to bring a witch, but the only one available had been Andrew, and he'd gibbered at the notion, though he'd started to pack his go bag. Adam had pointed out that the very nature of the catacombs would make it almost impossible for any but the strongest witches to do any magic at all. 

So Buffy had told Andrew to get a hold of Willow and ask her what might be done. She'd also sent a message to some more Minis to come to Rome, in case things went really bad. 

Buffy had told him he'd better get on finding some stronger witch nearby and keep Willow and Xander informed. Neither would be able to help, but if things did go badly, she wanted them to know. She’d left telling Giles up to him. If he tried to shoot her in the back, the girls would stop him. She hoped. 

In spite of the fact that he was mainly a researcher, Adam didn't seem very bothered by the tunnels or the danger. There were a lot of sealed niches in the wall, and behind each of them lay a grave, a body, or more than one. Though they might have been plundered in antiquity. 

He also carried a crossbow on his back and Buffy now knew the reason the armoury contained a number of gas hob lighters. Well, had contained until they’d taken all of them. 

She also thought she'd glimpsed the butt of a handgun of some sort. He didn’t seem quite the sort, though she could understand he’d want some sort of weapon that was easier for most ‘normal people’ to handle than a crossbow. And most magic users didn’t have Willow’s ability at shielding. 

They were now very much outside, or under, the area of the Catacombs that the tourists visited, far below even the parts that the most experienced guides knew of, let alone had been to. 

Those who did come down here, tended not to return.

And it wasn't just Isis worshippers, mummies, vampires and other demons that caused disappearances. The convoluted maze itself was enough to make men lose their way and become lost, forever, in the underground labyrinth.

And somewhere in here was Dawn, because of something stupid she'd done.

Adam kept looking at the copy of the map he'd made and comparing it to where they were, counting side passages and maybe even certain type of niches, looking at marks on the map and the wall.

He seemed to be pretty sure that they were going the right way. 

“Do you really think you can find it?” Buffy asked.

“What part of 'no-one has ever been able to find it' did you miss? I can do my best. No more,” Adam said.

She scowled at him. “Aren't you supposed to be all reassuring?”

“You're too old to be lied to and anyway, if it turned out to be not true you'd hit me, but if I pull this off against all odds, I figure I might get a beer out of it,” he smirked at her.

“Hah, as if I'm gonna support your bad habits,” Buffy replied.

“I'll support them, Master Adam,” Peggy almost purred.

Buffy glared at her and the Junior Slayer quailed. 

Candy rolled her eyes and muttered something in Italian. Peggy stuck out her tongue at her friend.

Buffy didn't quite catch it, though she had been learning more Italian, but it sounded like 'Do not bait the lioness.' 

She wondered how they knew what her spirit animal was, and what that was all about. She’d just been making sure that Peggy kept her attention on the possible dangers. Being all aware-y was vital for a Slayer in a situation like this, after all.

“Stop,” Adam called out. His eyes had been flicking across every stone it seemed, and now he consulted the map. He leaned in to study the wall, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing. 

He overbalanced as he reached for something in his pocket, his hand catching on the rough stone and grimaced a little, then got up, leaving a small smear of blood on the wall. “Protective runes. Keeping the magic down, in the name of Isis.”

“So anything we can do about that?” Buffy asked.

“Not much, unless you want a sacrifice of death,” Adam said. 

Buffy shook her head. “Not gonna happen.”

“Thought so. It does mean we’re getting close, I think,” Adam unfolded the large photocopy of the map and held his electric torch close to it. Then he peered at the passage ahead. “I think…” 

He moved, and the Slayers went with him. Buffy could feel a draught from a section of wall, and a scent, not of death, but of evil, and looked back over her shoulder. “Here, right?”

Adam nodded. “I think so.”

Buffy looked at the wall. It seemed to be yet another filled in niche, marked with symbols of death and resurrection painted on it centuries before by real worshippers of Isis. 

She made a moue. Then she kicked the roughly mortared old bricks and tufa blocks and it collapsed, revealing a corroded bronze door that had seen better days. She kicked that too. It collapsed, releasing a flow of dark, smelly brown water from the top and bottom. There were crashes on either side.

“That was probably some priceless ancient hydraulic mechanism many archaeologists would give their eyeteeth to find intact,” Adam said. “But I like your style.”

“It’s a demon lair’s ancient, hyper lit up-y thingy,” Buffy replied. “It goes down. Let's go.”

She led the way. The passage beyond was better finished than the catacombs, the walls smoothed and set with fake half pillars of what looked like painted stone, each with many hieroglyphics.

“What do these mean?” Buffy asked. “Or do I need to ask a different Watcher to do an on the run translation?”

Adam glanced at them. “You don't want to know right now.”

“Want or need?” Buffy asked. “I don't like surprises.”

“It's mostly about the different ways to keep people alive as long as possible while you mummify them,” Adam replied. “The best way to interrupt that is to kill the embalmer. And it's got nothing to do with what they want Dawn for. These are common rituals. What they plan for her, isn't.”

“Ugh,” Buffy grimaced.

“I'll tell you if we run into something on that.”

“You do that,” Buffy muttered. 

There were a handful of burning resin and pitch torches in patinaed green brackets along the wall, casting a fitful light along the passage. Adam kept glancing at the wall and Buffy moved along at a moderate pace, keeping an eye out for possible dangers.

They were almost soundless. Adam moved far more silently and with far more grace than most Watchers. He moved more like a trained commando. She made a mental note to ask where he'd learned that.

“This thing is curving,” Buffy remarked.

“Probably a sacred layout of some kind,” Adam said. “There's likely another passage that mirrors this and probably a secret one for the priesthood to enter and to leave, and to flee by if an enemy closed in.” 

“So they might get away?” Buffy growled. “Screw that.”

They fell back into silence. Then the passage widened into a half-moon shaped hall, painted dark blue with sprinkled silver stars like the night sky. There was a bunch of mummies ranged along the walls on either side of a wide door on the outer edge of the room. Buffy counted a good two dozen, though they looked unimpressive. 

Their windings were brown and tattered, with what looked like patches in some places. They were dusty and only shambled into movement when the rescuers had all entered. Then a heavy bronze door fell closed behind them with a heavy thud.

The mummies speeded up, the heads bouncing on the floor. Arms and legs started scattering about as the grim-faced senior Slayer started to carve her way through the opponents.

Peggy and Candy followed her closely, setting alight the ones that seemed inclined to keep moving. 

The mummies were stronger than mortals, as strong as vampires, but not as fast, and clearly more used to win by striking fear into their enemies than actually having to fight. They were much slower and more lumbering than vampires.

It took Buffy and the juniors only a few minutes to cut down all the mummies. Candy had a bruise on her cheek where a fist had hit her and she looked a bit groggy. 

“Slow, but they pack a punch,” Buffy summarised as she looked around at the settling ashes. Some mummies were still burning. “That wasn't nearly as hard as you made it sound.”

“Well, yes. Most people who've fought them haven't been able to use the Scythe,” Adam pointed out. “Magical weapons weren't mentioned among our assets.”

“Should I tell you about the holocaust cloak?” Buffy asked sweetly.

“No, but we may be able to use the albino and the handcart to cause a distraction,” Adam said blithely. “Let's go save your sister.”

“Not that she deserves it,” Buffy muttered. 

“Well then, let's save the world from some frothing madman who's going to be filled with divine power and bestride the Earth as a demi-god,” Adam shrugged. “That'll be easier if we don't let her be killed.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Buffy sighed. “It's a bitch killing gods.”

Adam kept silent. 

Buffy looked around the room. Another door had fallen and closed the mirror-passage on the other side. There was a large sarcophagus on the inner curve of the room. The huge lid was closed. She eyed it warily. “Think something is in there?” 

“I would consider the chances of that to be about one hundred percent,” Adam said. “But time is running out.”

“I hate going into a battle knowing I’m going to get attacked from behind,” Buffy complained. Then she strode to the double leafed door in the wall and was about to kick it, when Adam reached out and pressed an outward thrust breast of a statue at the side.

The door opened with hardly a creak.

Buffy sprinted inside. A blast of lighting flashed over her head as she ducked, discharging on the wall above the sarcophagus. 

“Get her!” a voice called out, cracking from an assumed deep tone into a panicked, much higher one.

The high priest was dressed in rather faded robes and wore a cartonnage mask that covered his head and shoulders and part of his chest. His movements were rather limited by the size of it. It also showed by its flaking gold leaf and fallen out semi-precious gems that the cult had seen much better days, and those many years ago. 

Dawn was draped over an altar, dressed in some sort of flimsy white gown, the front opened to allow the priest easier access to her heart.

He threw another bolt of lightning, which Buffy barely dodged as mummies moved in. These seemed to be in better condition and carried khopeshes as weapons, odd-shaped swords of tarnished iron, covered in intricate hieroglyphics inlaid in gleaming electrum.

Another bolt of lightning went straight for Buffy and she held up the Scythe to try and deflect it when one of the mummies struck it down.

Adam called out.

Suddenly the lightning arched upwards, across a shimmering shield, hitting the ceiling and causing a rain of black paint and plaster.

Buffy sliced three of the mummies through and was halfway to the altar before she could spare a second to look over her shoulder to see what happened. 

Willow was leaning in the doorway, gasping for breath and gave her a small wave. 

Buffy blinked, grinned, and turned back to the High Priest.

The High priest raised a knife, disturbingly curved, and made to thrust it into Dawn’s chest, when a knife, very straight and business-like, hit his hand, piercing the flesh. 

The high priest let out a wail of pain and dropped the knife. Buffy cut down another mummy. “Andrew? ANDREW! You are SO DEAD!”

He took one look at her, thrust the mask off, lifted the robes and sprinted for a wall, which he kicked. Another door swung open and he ran into the passage beyond. A gun shot rang out, but the bullet missed, by a hair. A splinter of stone was struck of the wall and sliced his ear just before he ducked inside. He let out an anguished bleat. Then the door swung shut again. A rumble beyond it made clear that the passage beyond was collapsing.

Buffy was stopped from following by yet more mummies interfering. She cut them off at the legs and strode over to the altar. Candy and Peggy kept the still moving zombie bits away from her.

She lifted Dawn off, rather more carefully than Adam had thought likely after the way she’d talked about her, and started carving parts out of it with the Scythe.

Soon there was little left but chunks and the still moving bits of mummy stopped.

Willow gingerly moved to the altar, with Kennedy beside her. 

“Andrew?”

“Andrew,” Buffy confirmed.

“I taught him that spell,” Willow said. “He’s going down.”

“That was nice knife work. Didn’t know you could do things like that. Nice shooting, too,” Buffy said.

Adam nodded. “I play a lot of darts. I decided to branch out once I got into a more dangerous job.”

“Interesting gun,” Willow said with distaste.

“It was a friend of the family’s. He used to work for Her Majesty’s government,” Adam smiled as he tucked it away. 

“Not American,” Buffy said.

“No, a Walther PPK. He used to prefer a Beretta when younger, but those really lack stopping power.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End note:**
> 
> **The Walther PPK of course being the chosen weapon of one James Bond.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Buffy looked at her sister who lay on the dark floor of the Temple of Isis, Queen of Death. 

That last bit she’d made up, but she thought it was fitting due to all the pictures of various ways of dying horribly that were painted on the walls.

She leaned down and tugged closed the diaphanous white gown Dawn was wearing. Not that it helped much, you could still look straight through it and see everything. Then, with a slight sigh, she took off her coat and put it under Dawn’s head. 

She straightened and went over to the door, where Willow was leaning on the doorjamb and Kennedy in equal measure.

She hugged Willow, not too hard, since the witch looked about ready to faint. “Not that I’m not very happy to see you and about what you did, but how did you get here?”

“Well, as soon as the girls called me to tell you you'd headed into the Catacombs of Isis and that Andrew had disappeared and not called me like you told him, I, like, totally got suspicious but I was, like in Brazil and you were here and everyone knows that it's almost impossible to do magic in the Isis temples.”

“I didn't,” Buffy interjected.

Willow grinned at her. “And I couldn't find you or Peggy or Candy with a ritual, so I got even more worried and I started to get ready to leave.”

“From Brazil?” Buffy asked. “How? I mean, that takes hours.”

“By plane,” Willow replied. “But anyway, I was worried and stuff, but then I felt you call the Scythe and realised that there was a way into the temple, but I also felt the danger so I used the circle that I used to try and find you to do a teleportation spell for me and Kennedy, so I got here but I was all wobbly and there was still a lot of resistance to my using magic even though I think it was way easier to do it than I had expected it to be. It totally feels better now that the altar is all broken.”

“So you teleported over her to help me?” Buffy shook her head. “You're nuts. I love you, but you're nuts.”

Willow broke into a broad grin and then hugged Buffy. When she let go there were tears in her eyes. “It was the least I could do.”

Buffy grimaced and looked over her shoulder at the still unconscious Dawn. “Yeah. Just wished it'd been for a more worthy enemy and especially a more worthy cause.”

Willow shook her head. “Andrew already was way more powerful than I thought he was, so he's been getting that from somewhere, and empowered by Isis he'd have been a real serious threat. And Dawn may have been a bitca lately, she's still your sister.”

“I can barely remember her not being one,” Buffy muttered. 

Willow nodded understandingly. “Yeah well, from the point of view of another screw up, I hope you get through it.”

Buffy sighed. “I'll listen to her explanation. Again.”

Willow was silent.

“Not going to say you're sure it will be a good one?” Buffy asked.

“After the last one? I still feel guilty for not calling you about that they were even thinking about it,” Willow admitted. 

“So how are you going to get back to Brazil?” Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged. “Maybe use that diplomatic immunity we can invoke in emergencies. Beats 'I am not the witch you are looking for' to half a dozen security guards and stuff.'

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. 

“So who's the guy reading the wall?” Willow looked at Adam.

“Adam Pierson. He got recruited from the junior department, but he already knew about the supernatural but hadn't wanted to join because the old Watchers were a bunch of dicks,” Buffy said. “Adam! Someone I want you to meet.”

Adam came over and made a slight bow to Willow. “Miss Rosenberg. You are as beautiful and powerful as rumour and reputation would have it.”

Willow giggled. “And you're a charmer.”

“I am merely an expert at stating obvious truths,” Adam protested. 

“Sure you are,” Buffy laughed. “Huh. Looks like the sister is waking up.”

“There's a dressing room with some clothes back there,” Adam pointed. “I suggest we get her and Miss Rosenberg out of here.”

“What about Andrew?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Collapsed the tunnel behind him, probably for several metres. Unless Miss Rosenberg can track him down, I doubt we'll catch him. Going around this place would take hours,” Adam said.

Buffy looked at Willow, who shook her head ruefully. “Too pooped. Sorry Buffy.”

Buffy shook her head and tutted. “Teleporting all the way from Brazil, stopping a bolt of lightning with an improvised shield, and saying they're exhausted. Why, I don't know what modern witches are coming to.”

“When I was a wee lad they'd do that before breakfast and then go for a cheerful run to the Roof of the World,” Adam clucked.

Willow stuck out her tongue. “You're a couple of dorks.”

Buffy grinned. “Kennedy, can we leave you here to hold the fort? We'll be sending someone to help with the magic.”

Kennedy nodded. “Just get Willow out of here and into bed.”

Adam lifted an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

Three fingers poked him.

“Worth it,” he wheezed.

************************************************************** 

“So, that's your new hottie?” Willow asked as they filled cups of coffee to take into the sitting room.

“Hottie?” Buffy asked. “Who? Adam?”

“Yes, Adam,” Willow said with a roll of her eyes.

“Adam's a friend,” Buffy said. “He was there after the whole fake Buffy thing, and he didn't believe that I was sleeping around with the Immortal.” 

“That's nice,” Willow agreed. “It's good to have friends. I'm still sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It all happened fast and you were in Brazil dealing with that guy who wanted to create a giant carnivorous rain forest,” Buffy said. “You told me, that's worth a lot.”

Willow's phone rang out with ‘Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of Rum.’ Willow grabbed it. “Xander!” 

“Willow! I got a call from Rome that Buffy was going into the Catacombs of Isis to save Dawn because it's Tuesday and I can't reach her!” Xander sounded frantic.

“Yeah, I got here by teleportation and everyone's fine except that Andrew like totally backstabbed and betrayed us and became the High Priest of Isis,” Willow replied.

“Andrew? That little bitch is so going down,” Xander growled. “I can be there in... Errr... a couple of days. A week, tops.”

“Buffy laughed. “Heroic dashes to the rescue are harder when the nearest airport is days away, right?”

“The nearest airport is under attack by demons,” Xander said. “Though airport is too big a word. Airstrip is too big a word. Air muddy hole in the jungle canopy would be more accurate.”

“Canopy is a big word. So's accurate. You got reception there?” Willow asked.

“Set up the booster station,” Xander admitted. “We're gonna have to call in Riley on this, with a full airstrike before these guys eat their way through the Congo while Ngambe, Adiwa and me go for the mad witch doctor.”

“Ugh. We can get you reinforcements. Vi and her girls are still gung-ho about parachutes.”

Xander was silent. “Them and some witches?”

“That bad?” Buffy said worried.

“I'm thinking it might be some Isis-cult thing too,” Xander said.

“We'll get back to you,” Buffy replied. “Don't get yourself injured, you hear?”

“I promise I'll do my utmost not to,” Xander said earnestly.

“Adam!” Buffy called out.

“You bellowed daintily?” Adam stuck his head around the door.

Buffy scowled at him. “Hush, you. Who do we have near the Congo? Some Slayers and some witches. And Willow's still pooped.”

“Airdrop?” Adam asked, sliding onto a chair and starting to tap away.

“Might have to be, to get there in time,” Buffy said.

“Strike Group Epsilon,” Adam and Willow said at the same time. “They're on exercise.”

“Nicky and Marie-Rose should be enough as witch back up,” Willow frowned. “I think. I doubt they've got an old Isis temple like here there.”

“Takes centuries to grow that,” Adam agreed. “But a few fresh sacrifices might make it hard to use magic.”

“They should be able to tap into the Scythe if we ask it nicely,” Willow looked at Buffy. 

“We can do that once Kennedy is back,” Buffy told her. “We don't want things to go pear shaped here.”

“We can tell them to get moving. The Scythe doesn't need to be present when they take off, Vi can summon it,” Willow smiled. “Unlike some.”

“Rona shouldn't have used it to show off by peeling a grape,” Buffy said. “At least not to some boys.”

“You showed off to demons, didn't you?” Adam grinned.

Buffy glared at him. “That's something completely different. Totally.”

“Of course,” Adam agreed. “Completely.”

Willow grinned. “I'll call Vi.”

She walked away to make the call. Buffy looked back at Dawn. “I always seem to be saving her, but I don’t even know if I like her anymore.”

“I once knew a man who married the daughter of the man who blackmailed him to do things he despised. They didn’t bond until the Germans killed his baby girl. Then the old man died trying to avenge her.”

“Did they win?” Buffy asked.

“They blew up a German light Cruiser,” Adam said. “The problem is that vengeance really is hollow, a very negative emotion that draws on all the others and makes you empty and dead.” 

He wandered to another wall, to read the inscriptions.

Buffy nodded, looking at him thoughtfully.

*************************************************************

Dawn woke up, with a headache and a taste of dead dogs in her mouth, again. She had a vague, woozy memory of Buffy and Willow helping her dress, but that would be impossible since Willow was in Brazil and Buffy unwilling to touch her. 

She was pretty sure that she'd been attacked and kidnapped by zombies. She wondered if it was Wednesday yet.

“So, you’re awake,” a cold voice said.

“Buffy?” Dawn sat up. “Ow.”

“That will be the possible concussion. You’re following your teacher in that way too, I see. Dabbling in dark arts, betrayals, concussions,” Buffy leaned forward. “What were you thinking, going to Santangalo’s? And the Cult of Isis? Haven’t you messed enough with death and bringing people to life?” 

“I wasn’t going to bring back anyone back to life,” Dawn said defensively. 

“Ri-ight,” Buffy said. “Forgive me for being sceptical, with your history. So what were you planning to do?”

Dawn looked away. “Nothing?”

“Nothing?” Buffy shook her head. “You got out a special that gives a senior research Watcher the heebie-jeebies, you went to Santangalo’s which also gave him the wiggins and you started to connect to the Death Cult of Isis. What do you call something then? Sacrificing babies?”

“I wasn’t sacrificing babies!” Dawn replied hotly. 

“Then what?”

“I-…Nothing,” Dawn said. “Just, you’ll think the worst of me anyway.”

“Well, yeah, if you don’t have a better excuse than that, and your previous actions, I’m totally gonna do that,” Buffy said. “You kinda ran out of goodwill after the selling me to the Immortal bit.”

“I thought you might like him,” Dawn said weakly.

“So you changed poor Guinevere into my double and told him to have at me? Some way to get me to pay attention to him,” Buffy shook her head. “Spill.” 

Dawn was silent. Buffy sat and glared. 

“Andrew said there was a ritual to help people who came back wrong,” Dawn finally said. 

Buffy froze. “What?” she hissed. “Came back wrong? Don’t like what you got, do you? And I don’t suppose you were going to ask me, either, were you? Just gonna screw over big sis again? Gonna make me the perfect, self-sacrificing older sister?”

“That’s not what I wanted!” Dawn replied vehemently. “The Sekhmet-Isis-”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t too happy about coming back, but you totally lost me when you decided to go do this without even asking me,” Buffy rose. “I’d kick you out of the house, but I like to think I’m better than you.”

She left, slamming the door.

Dawn looked at it, tears running down her face. “That’s not what I wanted at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End note:**
> 
> **A rather short, considering her importance, wiki article on** [ **Isis** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isis) **.**
> 
> **Regarding** [ **cartonnage** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cartonnage) **, mentioned in the previous chapter, it’s basically ancient Egyptian papier-maché, nicely painted**


	7. chapter 7

**Author’s note:**

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 7**

Buffy had taken to visit Adam's small flat more often. It was better than the one she still shared with Dawn, until her sister had recovered from her drugging and concussion. As far as Buffy was concerned, the Isis cult thing had been the last drop in an already overflowing bucket. 

Adam's flat wasn't bigger, or more central, or better equipped. But it had the important advantage that it was very much lacking in Dawn, and right now she really didn't want to see Dawn, or talk to her, or listen to her attempts to explain herself. She was too angry and might put a fist through her lying, deceiving face.

She hadn't done that after the Fake Immortal thing, but maybe she should have.

She had knocked out Giles when she'd first found out. That had felt pretty good. And put the word out to Faith what he had done, and Faith had taken it to the other Slayers and basically Giles couldn't get anyone to buy a roll of toilet paper without everyone checking if there was some stupid, abusive plot behind it. That was why she'd felt safe going into the Isis Catacombs with him up top, the other Slayers would have shot him like a rabid dog if he'd tried anything.

It was like when all the other Watchers had died, all their evil, manipulative, treacherous little ways had leaked into Giles. 

Or maybe he'd always been like that and she'd just never seen it.

But unlike with Giles, who still seemingly didn't seen anything wrong with anything he'd done in Sunnydale during the whole thing with the First, she'd thought she'd patched her relationship with Dawn. 

Now? Now she was starting to wonder how much betrayal a sibling relationship could take. Probably not much more, if they hadn't already gotten past the point where even going through the motions of shared meals at Christmas and stuff was impossible. She sure as hell wasn't going to share an apartment with her, that was for sure.

Hence a lot of time spent in places where there was no Giles or Dawn presence, which meant the offices at Headquarters and, well, her own home. Though that last only until Dawn was better and could be dumped in some cardboard box somewhere, as far as Buffy cared. Though she probably wouldn't really do that, because she liked to think she was better than her sister. 

There were a lot of demons in Rome, ever since the 'Immortal' had died, hoping to grab a part of whatever cake he had been eating. And Adam worked mostly from home, not the Council offices.

And Adam's place was interesting. It was a mix of modern architecture, with modern but comfortable furniture and then there would be a nineteenth century sideboard with an artful array of ancient artefacts, as Adam described them.

He called it 'eclectic.' He also seemed to feel that kitchens didn't need modern gadgets, though he did own an old, huge and rattling coffee maker, which thumped and steamed its way to the production of a really awesome cup of coffee and that he'd told her had once stood in an old Roman café. The most modern thing was the fridge that kept his beer cool. He had a fascination with beer. He drank the canned and bottled stuff from the big breweries, but only if there wasn't something better around. Almost everything was better according to him. Though he did call it consistent, which he also said was a virtue.

Adam was in the kitchen making a light snack. For a man who claimed to be unable to cook anything more complicated than ‘student food’, he was very good at making awesome finger foods.

She had the sneaking suspicion he could cook other foods as well, but much preferred having others do the cooking for him.

Right now she was watching him through the bar-doorway. There had been two doors to the kitchen, one from the dining room and one from the hallway. And the door from the hallway to the dining room was right beside that to the kitchen, so Adam had fitted a couple of shelves in the doorway, with a thick plank wall down the middle so he had shelves on both sides, with a broader one at waist level and put some barstools there.

It helped it was a good thick wall.

“So do you know any other drinks beside beer and coffee?”

“You need other drinks than beer and coffee?” Adam asked in mock confusion.

Buffy grinned at him. “I'm a girl. I need sticky sweet things with umbrella's in them.”

“I could make you a Vodka-Martini, either shaken or stirred, with or without ice and I could even add a slice of lemon,” Adam said. “Stickily sweet things you can get elsewhere.”

He pushed the plate at her. It had a round, Roman bread on it, larger than a roll and with a crunchy crispy crust and it was filled as richly as the best sandwich shops could do it.

She bit into it, watching in bliss as he put the large, wide cappuccino cup next to her, the scent of coffee and warm milk mixing with that of the bread and delicious thickly stacked and varied toppings. 

Adam bit into his own. They ate for a while in silence while Buffy looked around the kitchen. It was old-fashioned, but well-kept, though there was a large exhaust hood above the seventies brown hob it had been made to look like a old-fashioned hearth mantle, and the single modern appliance, the fridge, was hidden in a cupboard that had once been a larder.

Little plaques with sayings hung here and there, or when she looked more closely she realised they had been part of the original tiling and kept. A drizzle of sauce ran down her chin and she caught it with a finger and licked it off, carefully and slowly, thoughtful eyes on Adam.

Then she went back to eating. 

Adam sent her an amused look. “Like that, do you?”

“Awesome,” Buffy said. “But if this is a light snack, what do you call a full meal?”

“It's a light snack for a Slayer who's been running around Rome killing every demon she can find,” Adam replied. “For me? I could last the night.”

Buffy nodded. She knew enough about Watchers to guess that he was going to berate her for not being more careful or something, but right now there was an awesome better than sandwich and then the cappuccino and she hoped that he'd let her finish both before getting down to the berating. It was probably too much to ask of any Watcher not to berate Slayers.

He did indeed keep mostly silent, only answering her questions about some of the weird implements in the kitchen, all for Mediterranean dishes, mostly with seafood. And they were all really old, too. 

For a guy who said he didn't know how to cook, he knew a lot about cooking. 

Buffy sipped her coffee after she was done. Adam took a bit longer, then gathered their plates and put them in the definitely not original dishwasher.

“So, did Dawn tell you why she was at Santangalo's? And wanted the Book of Going Forth by Night?”

Buffy scowled. “Aren't you going to going to chew me out for risking myself? I'd prefer we just get to that and not just lead up to it.”

“At the current time there's nothing much in Rome that would be a major risk to you. You might get killed or injured by a demon that gets lucky, but that might happen to any Slayer any night,” Adam said. “You seem to pace yourself with sleep and other than the fact that the Junior Slayers are complaining you're not leaving them anything to fight, I see no reason to.”

“Huh,” Buffy looked at him. “I was sure you were going to.”

“I'm full of surprises,” Adam said dryly. “I also want to know what she was doing. If she's gone bad, we need to deal with her. It wouldn’t be the first time a Watcher or relative found the lure of the dark too tempting.”

Buffy sat back, thankful the barstools had low backrests. “I'd really prefer not to talk about her, but I suppose I have to.”

“You said she has a history of bringing people back from the dead,” Adam said. “Let's start with that. Was she involved in your resurrection?”

Buffy grimaced. “No, I suppose not. She was happy I was back though.”

“That's not unexpected, you are her sister. I'd worry more if she wasn't happy, or at least, for the wrong reasons,” Adam assured her.

“She brought mom back. Used a ritual, after the funeral. I had to,” Buffy's eyes were haunted. “I talked her out of it, when mom was already on the porch.”

Adam winced. “I don't know of any ritual where the dead rebury themselves?”

“That was not a good night,” Buffy said in a shaky voice. 

Adam reached out and put a hand on hers. “But she didn't get involved in yours?”

Buffy shook her head. “Of course she kicked me out of my own home. Our home, I suppose, but mine just as much as hers.”

“Have you made a decision yet about inviting Sean or John?” Adam asked. 

Buffy sighed. “I'll talk it over with Willow and Xander. We all need help and we need to come to terms with the things we did that hurt each other. At least we're talking again so I can bring it up.”

“I'll get someone to contact them,” Adam smiled at her. “I know it isn't easy for you to deal with psychologists or psychiatrists.”

“Understatement of the fricking century,” Buffy muttered.

“So Dawn partially brought back your mother, who you had to rebury, wasn't involved in your own but happy you were back and then acted hastily and self-righteously. Far older people than Dawn have done so.”

Buffy sighed. “I suppose so.”

She sat silent for a few minutes. Finally she spoke. “She told me I'd come back wrong. That she was going to do a ritual that would make me whole again. I'm thinking mind-wipe or something.”

“That's pretty bad,” Adam agreed. “Did she mention what she was going to do?”

“Something called the Sect met Isis thing. Probably gonna get me to drink the Kool aid,” Buffy growled.

Adam let out a breath. “The Ritual of Sekhmet-Isis?”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “That was it.”

“Right,” Adam rose from his barstool and got a bottle from a narrow, shallow, locked cupboard next to the door.

“I don't drink,” Buffy protested. “Beer bad.”

“One thing I completely disagree with you about,” Adam said. “You may want it later.”

“It's not something expensive, right?” Buffy asked. 

“It's made by some local enthusiasts, a type of distilled spirit,” Adam said. “Tastes like drinking nettles. Well, they put nettles in it for flavour, but you know what I mean. Strong enough to get a Slayer drunk.”

“What does the ritual do?” Buffy asked, warily eyeing the bottle.

“It gives happiness and wholeness to a person or being who has been touched by death,” Adam said. 

“Okay,” Buffy blinked. “That actually doesn't sound so bad. Why didn't she tell me? I might even have done it, I could do with a bit of happiness.”

“Because it requires that someone willingly sacrifice their life,” Adam poured Buffy a glass. “The more they love, the closer they feel themselves to be, the more powerful the ritual.”

Buffy took the glass. Her hand trembled. “So she was going to kill herself...”

“And make you happy. Of course the ritual doesn't shield you from the feeling of loss and pain that someone you might love so much killed themselves for you, but that's why it’s recorded in a book of dark rituals.”

“Not the human sacrifice?” Buffy slugged back the drink and grimaced.

“You think sacrificing yourself for those you love is evil?” Adam asked, pouring her another glass.

“But why?”

“She probably feels guilty, and useless, and thinks you are more valuable for the world and half a dozen other things, the mess with the Immortal included,” Adam said. “Guilt about your mother's death, because I'm sure she thinks that her arrival made things worse-”

“How do you know about that?” Buffy demanded fiercely.

“I guessed from the fact that the ritual of the Three Stars was going to be performed with her as the sacrifice,” Adam shrugged. “Also I'm curious and Dawn has the habit of writing sensitive things on scraps of paper that she doesn't guard nearly carefully enough.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Little idiot.”

“I understand it can be quite hard to maintain a secret identity,” Adam smirked at her.

She glared. Then she threw back the contents of her glass with a gulp and a grimace. 

“So she was trying to make me happy?” Buffy pushed the glass back. “But why kill herself?”

“You'd have to ask her reasons yourself,” Adam filled the glass. “But I think so.”


	8. Chapter 8

Buffy wondered when demons had gone and set up home in her head, and decided to do some remodelling with huge heavy hammers.

She opened an eye, almost feeling the crust tear. She looked at an unfamiliar ceiling, and an unfamiliar shoulder. 

Okay, the shoulder wasn't unfamiliar and neither was the ceiling, but they were unfamiliar to wake up to.

Thankfully the shoulder wasn't bare. Drunken one night stands wasn't something she felt she wanted to get into. Her love-life was annoying and confusing enough as it was. Besides, Adam was a friend. Right in the friend-zone. Miles and miles into it.

“Awake, are we?” an amused voice spoke. “Never thought I'd see a Slayer collapse on my couch from too much alcohol.”

“Are you telling me I'm a lightweight?” Buffy sat up and stretched, her eyes on his. They firmly remained on hers. Nary a flicker down.

“It's a lot better than the technically alcoholic Slayers who're far too common in the Journals,” Adam said seriously. “An alcoholic Slayer needs a lot of drink to get drunk. And the fact that you need relatively little is a relief.”

Buffy grimaced. “I sure as hell was well on the way a few years ago.”

“The capacity for drink diminishes again once you've cut back or stopped,” Adam told her.

Buffy looked around. “I'll go home and change.”

“You can just go to the office and tell people you were out looking for demons to slay all night and didn't meet any,” Adam said. “There've been a lot fewer since you moved here.”

Buffy grinned. “I'd feel better if I changed, okay?”

“Very good reason.”

“Also I need to yell at Dawn,” Buffy scowled. “How dare she sacrifice herself for my happiness! How does she think that would make me feel?”

“Hmmm. Maybe better than she does. You at least might never have found out, and most likely wouldn't have seen the ritual,” Adam said.

Buffy glared at him. “That was a completely different situation!”

“Which is probably something the two of you need to talk about,” Adam patted her shoulder. “Now, I assume you want a toothbrush?”

Buffy huffed. “Is that an attempt to tell me my breath stinks?”

“There's species of demon who would-”

Don't even dare finishing that sentence!” Buffy growled.

“Toothbrush it is,” Adam grinned.

*************************************************************

Buffy stomped down the street, grumbling to herself, then up the stairs to her apartment. They could have gotten one with an elevator, but they were both young and at least physically healthy.

She opened the door, or at least had the key against the lock when it opened. Willow was there, looking worried. She looked relieved when she saw Buffy. Then she looked down at her shoes as Buffy stepped inside. 

A red eyebrow went up. “Didn't go demon hunting?”

Buffy realised that no matter what she was going to answer, people would think the wrong things.

“I was with Adam. We got drunk,” she replied.

“Drunk?” Willow grinned a little too knowingly. “Just drunk?”

“Just drunk,” Buffy replied firmly. “Adam's a friend and a gentleman.”

“Sounds like you're disappointed,” Willow smirked. 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “He's not my boyfriend.”

'Uh-huh,” Willow nodded. 

“And I don't want him to be,” Buffy continued.

“Su-ure,” Willow drawled.

Buffy huffed. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here, anyway?”

“Well, I needed a place to sleep and someone needed to sit with Dawn and her concussion and I wanted to know what she was thinking, so all that neatly combined. Of course you weren't here,” Willow said seriously. “We need to talk.”

Buffy sighed. “Did she mention the Sekhmet-Isis thing?”

“She did,” Willow looked at the closed door to Dawn's room, then at Buffy's. The couch had been slept on, but the pillows and blankets had been neatly piled and folded to go back into the closets they came from.

Buffy led the way into her bedroom and closed the door. “Adam told me about the thing.”

“She said you blamed her for bringing you back,” Willow said. “You know that that was mostly me, right?”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “Adam is gonna arrange for a shrink, a really good one.”

“Buffy, he'd need to be incredible to be able to really help us,” Willow sighed. 

Buffy started sorting through her clothes. “Apparently he's a thousand year old monk who's seen things and been a shrink longer then there's been shrinks.”

“An Immortal? How's he gonna manage that?” Willow frowned.

“He's friends with a Watcher who's friends with the Immortal he's supposed to watch who knows the guy,” Buffy shrugged. “I asked him about that. He very carefully didn't mention Spike and Angel or Anya or Clem.”

Willow looked thoughtful. “Think he could get me to meet some of them who aren't shrinks? Think of the things they could tell us.”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “Some of them might make awesome Watchers.”

“So, Dawn?”

“I'm totally gonna yell at her,” Buffy said. “Softly, because she has a concussion. Then she'd better have a very good explanation about the Immortal thing.”

“I'll be here,” Willow said.

“Why?” Buffy asked. 

“Because,” Willow said. “Your mom isn't here to listen to you both bitch any more, and someone's gotta do it.”

Buffy grinned.

*************************************************************

Dawn saw the door open and Buffy come in. She hoped that Willow had talked to her and explained what she'd really been planning to do. 

Buffy sat down. “What made you think I wanted you to sacrifice myself for my happiness?”

“What made you think that I wanted you to sacrifice myself so I could live to be unhappy?” Dawn countered, hotly.

“That's what Adam said,” Buffy muttered. “Damn stupid insightful-y Watcher guy.” 

Dawn giggled in spite of the situation. Then she sobered. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

“Is that why you arranged the thing with the Immortal?” Buffy asked.

Dawn shook her head. “No. I really thought he was the real Immortal. And that he was gonna be awesome for you. But you didn’t want to meet him, so I got some hairs to Giles and we changed Guinevere. And I wanted you to hear there was another you here, and come check it out.”

“So you told Guinevere to start boinking him to make me jealous?” Buffy asked incredulously.

“No, I told her not to,” Dawn said. “Giles told her to do everything in her power to get closer to him. I didn't hear about that until later. Then I knew I was screwed.”

“Not as much as Guinevere,” Buffy crossed her arms. “And why did he want that?”

“The Immortal was supposed to have a lot of knowledge and abilities,” Dawn shook her head. “He wanted her to recruit him. He knew the Immortal liked strong independent women.”

“Adam said that he once slept with Darla and Drusilla at the same time,” Buffy grimaced. “That's really the sort of thing to make me want to date the guy.”

“Huh,” Dawn frowned. “That isn't in the reports we have on him.”

“Yeah, didn't those say he wasn't the Immortal? This Methos guy?” Buffy asked. “That's what Adam keeps saying.”

“We didn't have Adam's research,” Dawn said. “He's the expert on Methos. The reports we had didn't tell us everything.”

“Why didn't you call me when you found out that Giles was pimping out Guinevere?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Because I knew you were, like, totally gonna kill me and I wanted to have a bit more to offer than sorry,” Dawn said. “I'd disappointed you so often already...”

“You were hoping it would just go away and I'd never find out?” Buffy asked dryly.

“Basically, yeah,” Dawn admitted sheepishly. 

“That's so dumb,” Buffy sighed. “Why the sacrifice?”

“Because I screwed up so much. I didn't think I should have existed at all,” Dawn said, her voice trembling. “All things messed up because of my existence.”

“You weren't responsible for bringing me back,” Buffy pointed out. “Willow admits she was the one who did that.”

“I was the one who brought back mom,” Dawn replied, a sob escaping her lips. “And I found her earring by the porch. So don't tell me... Don't tell me you didn't have to bury her again.”

Buffy closed her eyes and rubbed them with the balls of her hands. “Crap.”

“So you see I had to do it,” Dawn said.

Buffy got up and waved a finger in Dawn’s face. “You do not have the right to kill yourself just to make me happy. I promised mom to keep you safe.”

“And then you jumped off a tower,” Dawn crossed her arms. “Next time, ask if I might want to save the world myself, ‘kay?”

Buffy sighed. “We’re gonna see a shrink.”

“I’ve seen a shrink,” Dawn said. “He’s a gibbering wreck.”

“This is an Immortal. Adam is gonna arrange it,” Buffy sat on the bed, then gently stroked Dawn’s hair. “Mom would totally have grounded you for weeks for this.”

Dawn grinned weekly. “Months. She even threatened to tan my butt once, when she caught me trying to follow you on patrol. Of course, she never did.”

“No she never would have. Though I’m half-tempted. And you, Little Miss Untidy, need to be more careful with what you write and where you leave it. Adam figured out you’re the Key,” Buffy growled.

Dawn groaned. “Great. That probably explains the looks he gave me. And how Andrew found out back in Sunnydale. Crap.” 

“We're gonna get Andrew. And I’ll ask Adam about it,” Buffy promised. “And they better not have been any other kind of looks,” she finished with a scowl.

“As if,” Dawn snorted. “He’s totally into you.”

Buffy shook her head. “We’re just friends.”

“What-ever,” Dawn rolled her eyes. “Miss Clueless.”


	9. Chapter 9

Joe Dawson had been fairly surprised when Methos had joined the Senior Council. He hadn’t heard of the Senior Council until he’d been a Watcher for a long time, right about the time when the whole mess with Ahriman. He’d called an old friend, asking him about his – if any- experiences with the supernatural and the Seniors had stepped in.

Methos had faded into the woodwork, after making sure that Mac hadn’t messed up too badly. And leaving a book that detailed a lot more than he’d initially admitted to knowing. A very useful book. A book that the Senior Council positively drooled over.

They’d made it appear as if it had been part of the professor’s collection. And Joe had seen no reason to change that.

Until now. Until the old man had called him to call MacLeod to get Sean Burns to help the Senior Members of the New Council with their PTSD and various other problems.

To the Senior Council, he was Adam Pierson, senior research Watcher to the Senior Council and the Junior Council felt that at least his knowledge and Immortality might have a role there that didn’t interfere with theirs and were happy enough to leave him there. And especially not let Senior Council people know that a pre-immortal, now an Immortal, no matter how young, knew about the Junior Council.

And maybe they hoped he’d get killed. Permanently. Being a Watcher in the Senior Division, as it was now called, was a lot more risky.

And even that hadn’t made Joe consider changing his mind. Methos was a valuable addition to the Senior Division. More valuable than they could probably imagine.

But what he was seeing now… 

He was at the Rome office of the Council since Sean Burns had agreed to go there, but only if MacLeod went along. Sean wasn’t the world’s greatest swordsman.

Though all Duncan had done was take a letter written by Joe to Burns. He didn’t know what all this was about, but he was interested in the rumour that Methos had been killed in Rome. And he wanted to know why that letter brought Burns to Rome. 

In spite of both Joe’s and Methos’ assurances that such was not the case, and Sean’s that it wasn’t any of his business, he wanted to know what had been going on.

So Duncan MacLeod was in Rome. 

And Joe had followed, since he was still officially the Highlander’s Watcher.

And since he was senior in the ‘Juniors’ and knew about things, he’d been invited to visit the Rome office of the Senior Council.

Where Buffy Summers was flirting with the Old Man. And didn’t seem aware she was doing it yet.

He’d heard enough about Miss Summers to realise that her love life might best be described as a train wreck. 

And Methos really hadn’t recovered from Alexandra yet. So all this might end in a lot of grief.

And he wasn’t discouraging her. Thankfully they knew that he knew Adam, so he could claim him for an evening. 

And he was really unhappy with the look of disappointment on Buffy Summers’ face when she realised that she wouldn’t have the Old Man all to herself.

So as soon as he was sitting on the leather couch in Methos’ apartment and the old man handed him a beer, he jumped in. “What the hell do you think you are doing?” 

Adam lifted that accursed eyebrow of his. “Doing? Giving you a beer. Unless you have a problem with real beer?”

“With Buffy Summers. The Senior Slayer. The girl is in love with you,” Joe said accusingly. “And she doesn’t know you.”

“Yes, she does,” Adam replied calmly. “I am exactly the person I am now. I don’t know everything about her past, yet. She doesn’t about mine yet.”

Joe opened his mouth to say something else, and changed his mind, suddenly looking thoughtful. “Yet?”

“Yet,” Adam confirmed. 

Joe took a sip of the excellent beer. “Why did you join?”

Adam snorted. “I’ve been a Watcher watching Immortals several times, what makes you think I wouldn’t invest time in helping to save the world? I live in it.”

“When was the last time?” Joe asked.

“Late eighteenth century,” Adam grimaced. “They were getting… very unpleasant. I decided to wait out the phase, but it took a lot longer than I expected. So in retrospect it might have been wiser to take a more active role.”

“What brought you back now?” Joe asked.

“There’s been two Slayers at the same time before, though it’s been very rare and never before had they met. Now there are hundreds of Slayers and far too few Watchers. An untested Watcher getting to my current rank would have been considered impossible a few years ago. They need the help, and things are new,” Adam said wistfully. “It’s been a very long time since there has been something truly new.”

“Computers?” Joes suggested.

“Are just a type of technology, when all is said and done. Metalworking, agriculture, horseback riding, pottery, all of them changed the world.” 

Joe sipped his beer. “And Buffy?”

“What about her?” Adam sounded slightly defensive.

“She’s been hurt a lot. She obviously likes you. How do you think she’ll feel when she finds out what you’ve been hiding?” Joe asked.

Adam closed his eyes and opened them and suddenly Joe felt very small and young. Somehow, in that instant millennia, power, age-old knowledge that had been veiled and hidden looked out at him. “Slayers tend to become truly extraordinary persons if they live long enough. Buffy has been the Slayer, now a Slayer, for longer than any I’ve ever heard of. To know her is an honour.”

“You’re in love with her,” Joe said.

Adam took a sip of beer. His face was inscrutable, his eyes once more the slightly mischievous ones that Joe knew so well. 

“She’s certainly attractive,” he admitted.

Joe realised that was probably everything he was going to get. He also realised that Methos was playing a deep game, but not playing with the Slayer’s affections.

“I like your couch,” he said.

“Shark leather,” Methos smiled slightly. 

Joe sent him a sceptical look. “Really?”

“A friend of mine ran into some sharks. He lived. They didn’t. He sent the hides to me as a kind of joke and I made them into couches,” Methos replied. 

“You did it?” Joe’s eyebrows went up.

“I’ve been a leatherworker several times,” Adam shrugged. “The difficult part was to work around the bite-marks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End note:**
> 
> **James Bond again, of course.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

“Xander needs help!” Willow called to Buffy as she skidded into the room, phone still in hand.

Buffy got up from the chair she'd been sitting on as she taught a couple of juniors about proper weapon care. 

“How bad is it?” Buffy asked.

“Pretty bad. Riley's team got chewed up. There's all sorts of demons and undead and he got separated from Vi and her group too.”

Buffy looked at the door leading further into the offices. 

Dawn was on a bed in an inner room, still suffering her concussion and some after effect of the ritual. 

Adam and Willow had said it was a type of poison, a residue from the drug used to knock her out and would take a while to work out of her system but she should fully recover.

It was another reason to hunt down and skin Andrew and maybe roll the still-living carcase in salted fire-ants. But Willow hadn't been able to track him down yet. Which was a bit worrying, though Adam had pointed out that the Isis cult had items specifically created to prevent the members being scryed, since they were, after all universally hated. It would take time, but they'd find him and make him pay. If not with the salt and skinning knife, then using some other suitable method.

On the other hand, skinning him might upset Willow. Maybe feed him alive to some flesh-eating cockroaches and just use the salt for seasoning.

“What about your witches?” 

Willow looked unhappy. “Not sure. I think some of them may have gotten killed. Whoever is behind all that is a lot more powerful than we thought.”

“Can we get there in time?” Buffy asked. 

Willow nodded. “Adam found some really rare components for me. I can use them to power the ritual to teleport.”

“You only brought Kennedy from Brazil,” Buffy said. “And you were, like, totally pooped.” 

“Really cool rare components,” Willow grinned. “Trust me, I can take a bigger group and still be useful.”

“The sort of thing you can only use once?” Buffy started to stuff a few extra things in her go pack and kicked off her shoes.

“Some, but I only need tiny bits,” Willow admitted. “A pinhead's worth of thousand year old royal jelly and stuff like that.”

“Where did he get it?” Buffy wanted to know.

Willow laughed. “Partly from the Catacombs of Isis. And he wants to open that sarcophagus.”

“Of course he does,” Buffy said, half fond, half exasperated. “He's like curiosity on two legs.”

Willow put a mock-offended hand to her heart. “I thought that was me!” 

“I never said you weren't,” Buffy said. “And I'm not sure which of you is worse. How many can we take?”

Willow thought for a bit. “You, me, three others. So, which Slayers do you want to bring?”

“Kennedy, Candy and Adam,” Buffy decided.

“Adam?” Willow frowned. “He's a researcher.”

“With some medical knowledge and he can shoot, use a crossbow and throw knives,” Buffy pointed out. “Also he can read a lot of languages and he doesn’t do magic like you do so-”

Willow held up her hands. “Okay, okay, Adam comes along. Sheesh. You can’t be without your honey for a minute, can you?”

“He’s not my honey,” Buffy insisted.

“Su-ure.”

***********************************************************

The Congo river is the largest river of Western Africa, one of the world’s greatest, and drains not only the Republic of Congo but through its tributaries several neighbouring countries as well.

It has long been a cradle of life and civilization. Early man hunted the great catfish that live in its waters, and was hunted by the beasts of the forest and the river themselves.

There were worse things living in the forests, things that were older than man, and some that were no longer alive.

Trade had existed between the Mediterranean and the inlands of Africa, as well as the Atlantic coast for thousands of years. Years long journeys through deserts, luxuries handed from one trader to the next.

Caravans of camels had carried salt from the mines of Taghaza and Taoudenni, along a trade way studded by oases supporting great and ancient cities, forts, kingdoms.

Gold, salt, ivory, precious stones, ebony and that most desirable of commodities, other men, had travelled up and down the trade routes.

Things had changed when the great ships of the Europeans had come. There had been an even more ready and rapacious market for everything, and the trade had gone further. 

The rulers of even the mightiest kingdoms had lost power as the Europeans moved in, took over. Horrors had been perpetrated, until at last the worst of the oppression had past. 

Now there was no longer a foreigner oppressing them. Regrettably that did not mean that things had necessarily gotten better. 

On a hill in a bend of the Congo River a small group of people appeared, accompanied by a number of big duffel bags and each carrying a large backpack. 

Buffy looked around even as she picked up two duffel bags and settled her backpack with a shrug. “Okay. This looks promising. Lots and lots and lots of forest and brown river water. But no Xander. So, which way?”

Willow closed her eyes and pointed. “That way.”

Adam looked around. “If we ended up where you think we should end up, that's towards the Forest of Dark Trees.”

“Forest of Dark Trees? What's that?” Buffy asked.

“There's still a large number of Congolese who believe that certain places, objects, plants, everything really, contain spirits,” Adam settled his backpack rather less gracefully than Buffy and with some difficulty hoisted a duffel up as well. 

“Animism,” Buffy said. “Let me guess, all the spirits in that forest are dark and evil?”

“Yes,” Adam said. 

“How do you know where it is?” Kennedy wanted to know.

“I studied the Watcher maps of the area before we went here,” Adam answered. “Not just some satellite images.”

“What can we expect there?” Candy asked, looking around with large eyes.

Adam thought for a second. “Think a mix of Mirkwood and Old Man Willow. Including spiders, seductive songs and demonic wraiths.”

“You're not helping me feel better,” Candy muttered. Then she sighed and hung two duffel bags over her shoulders as well, balancing the load with slightly more difficulty than Buffy. 

“It might help you keep alive,” Adam shrugged. “Personally I think we should set it on fire after we get Xander and the others, but the place is too damp to burn.”

“We'll see about that,” Willow said. “Let's go find them.”

“We can expect to be lured into the depth of the forest and attacked from all sides then,” Adam looked at the forest distastefully.

“I just hope no one got killed,” Buffy said. “Okay, let's move in.”

***********************************************************

“This place reeks,” Kennedy wrinkled her nose. “Worse than the worst favela.”

“Favelas mostly have human evil, filth and corruption, and none of them have been evil and corrupt as long as this place,” Adam said cheerfully. “Don't step on that. It will eat you.”

Kennedy hastily pulled her foot away from the root she'd been about to step on. “Seriously?”

“Might have?” Adam grinned. “Let's say there's an even chance.”

Buffy sighed. “Stop teasing her, Adam.”

“We're getting near to Xander. And we haven't been attacked by anything yet,” Willow said. “This is totally a trap.”

“Definitely totally a trap,” Buffy agreed. 

“I did say. There's likely some overgrown temple at the centre,” Adam looked around. “Though it might be hard to tell when we get there, because the vegetation really is rather dense.” 

“Let’s get on with this then,” Buffy said as she led the way deeper into the shadowed forest.

*************************************************************

The Temple was, in spite of Adam’s misgivings, quite easily spotted. “What’s that supposed to be?” Buffy asked. 

“Nubian pyramid,” Willow said. “How did that get here?”

“You think that trade and the exchange of ideas started when a couple of white guys from Portugal decided to see if they could reach India?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “Either down the coast and up the river, or down the Sahara Salt road and Mali to here.”

Willow stuck out her tongue. “Wise guy.”

“Who cares,” Buffy said. “I can hear fighting. That way.”

She waved them along and pretty soon it became clear that there had been fighting along the path they were taking. There were bits of mummy and mummy ash. A lot of the mummy bits were still crawling, slowly, to wherever the fighting was taking place now.

Buffy stomped on one. “Vi’s got the Scythe.”

“The Scythe can only be in one place at a time,” Willow pointed out. 

Buffy nodded, then tilted her head for a second and started running. Kennedy and Candy followed immediately. 

Adam glared after her as he started to speed up. “How are we supposed to follow them? We can’t run half as fast as Slayers with all this gear.”

“I thought you were a tough, trained Watcher?” Willow asked, as she started to pant to catch up already.

“I also like my knees, and we’re the big guns,” Adam replied. He wasn’t looking or sounding like he was particularly bothered by the running, however. 

“We? Haven’t seen you do any magic,” Willow managed to get out. “Should’ve asked Kennedy to carry my duffel.”

“She already had two and a backpack, and you’re carrying the lightest ones,” Adam pointed out. 

Willow glared at him. “What’s so important in here that we had to bring it anyway?”

“I thought it would be a good time to see if I could offload my brick collection,” Adam said.

Willow huffed out a breath and continued running. “I’ll get you for this, Adam Pierson,” she gasped. “You’re gonna be a sock-puppet or a Wiener doggie.”

“How is being a sock-puppet like being a Wiener dog?” Adam asked. “Oh no wait. You’re going to find me a gay Great Dane friend, right?”

Willow huffed. “You think far too much like us!”

“Years of practice,” Adam said. “We’re almost there. You can leave all but your own stuff now. Make sure that Buffy and the others put their loads with the flags up.”

“What are you going to do?” Willow demanded, as she shucked the duffel and the upper part of the backpack. 

Adam zipped off the outer cover of his pack and Willow gaped. “You can use that?”

Adam lifted an eyebrow at her. “Don’t you wish.”

Willow threw up her hands. “You’re insufferable!” Then she ran off, having managed to get enough breath down to get her second wind.

**********************************************************

Xander was trying to keep the High Priestess from unleashing the ranks of mummies on the African continent.

He'd never made a count, but Willow had once told him there were thousands of mummies all over the world. The Egyptians had practised mummification for millennia, she'd said. 

Right now his jokes about they couldn't have been very good at it then, since they were still practising after that long, really didn't sound very smart. Not when hundreds of the things were laying siege to them.

They'd managed to fight their way into the temple, and they'd stopped the first ritual, but Hinowe was pretty sure that whoever the high priestess was, she was smart and going to do something pretty bad to them.

Xander really didn't want to know what a bunch of Isis controlled Mummy Slayers could do.

Even if Buffy and Willow did stop them from empowering themselves by sacrificing Dawn.

And Buffy's so-not boyfriend, Adam.

He would've liked to meet Adam. A not undead boyfriend of Buffy's would've been interesting, but there had to be a catch. He probably changed into a stamp collector named Marvin every other Tuesday or something.

But right now he was pretty sure that even with the Scythe, they were gonna get clobbered. The Slayers had been alternating who wielded it, since it was the only weapon they had capable of killing mummies other than fire and whatever the High Priestess had done, none of their attempts to use torches had managed to burn up even a single mummy.

Ranks of mummies surrounded them. They'd fallen back to this elevated position that Vi had selected. The air drop had been awesome, the only thing that saved him, Ngambe, Adiwa and Hinowe. Six Slayers, skydiving, sword and crossbow in hand. But even Q'l, the Cwa shaman who knew stuff that made Willow sit up and take notice, had no idea what was stopping torches from working.

He heard Vi swear. He'd never heard Vi swear. He looked around and saw that the Scythe was gone from her hand. That meant that somewhere a Slayer needed it even more badly than she did. 

Which sucked. One, that a Slayer was in worse trouble than they were and two, because they were now gonna get overrun by mummies. 

Then mummies in the outer ranks started falling. He saw the Scythe rise and fall and heard Buffy. 

“You know, I never thought I'd see anyone with worse dress sense than a vampire, but you guys? You guys would make an entire school of design commit suicide.”

A mummy head flew of its shoulders and bounced up the steps. Then Buffy was there, at the top, Kennedy and a Slayer he didn't know bracketing a panting Willow. 

“Will! Buffy!” He waved. 

They made towards him, cutting down mummies as they went. There was a clear difference between how Buffy fought and the younger Slayers, Xander noticed again. Years of experience obviously made a difference. A pretty deadly one, too.

Buffy grinned at him as another mummy fell under the Scythe. “Hello Xander. Looks like you've got a mummy infestation.”

“Yeah, it's a problem in places like this,” Xander nodded sadly. “And of course the previous owners really let the place run down. The garden is a mess.”

“Well, we're here to make it all better,” Buffy shrugged off the backpack she was carrying, as well as the two duffel bags.

“How can you fight loaded like that?” Adiwa asked.

“Got in lots of practice with people slung over my shoulder,” Buffy replied as she headed back to chop mummies. “Willow, prepare the specials!” 

“So what did you bring?” Xander looked at the duffels.

“Adam noticed something with the mummies in Rome and thought that might be something they'd try here too,” Willow said. “So we brought all this stuff.”

Xander opened a duffel. “A barrel? A barrel of fun? A barrel of monkeys? A barrel of fun monkeys?”

“A barrel of military grade jellied petroleum,” Willow said. 

A whoosh of flame hit a clump of mummies. For an instant it looked like they were untouched, then they burned, short and sharp, and fell to dust.

“What?” Xander gaped. 

“Flame retardant,” Willow grinned. “Though I totally didn't expect Adam to be able to use a flame thrower. I thought we were gonna use, like Molotov cocktails. Okay, so we brought a lot of them too.”

“A flame thrower?” Xander echoed. 

“Yeah. We brought another one, but Buffy prefers the Scythe.”

“I can use one, gimme!” Xander looked around. Willow pointed at Buffy’s backpack, then helped Xander put it on and attach the hoses as she muttered under her breath. 

There was another huge whoosh. A whole phalanx of mummies went up.

“Okay, so that was stopping them going up from our torches?” Xander wanted to know.

“Yep, they were drenched in flame retardant,” Willow replied. “Adam smelled it.”

“Huh,” Xander shook his head. “Not very mystical at all.”

“Andrew’s a geek, he probably infected whoever is the High Priestess,” Willow shrugged. “Okay, I need to go and help Buffy and find Miss Ooky bad High Priestisis.”

“That sounds like a disease,” Xander grinned. 

“Probably is,” Willow smiled. “Be careful. Adam got us a shrink who actually might be able to help and I want to see your eyes smiling again, too.”

She kissed his cheek, avoiding the dangerous apparatus as best she could. Then she hurried away. 

Xander leaned over the handle and checked the settings, not looking around, even though a look showed everyone was busy fighting. Buffy was hip deep in mummies and quips.

He smiled and aimed his flame thrower, being careful not to get anywhere near the source of the flames that had to be wielded by the unknown Adam. He would be very interesting to talk to, he was sure.

**********************************************************

The largest of the steep-sided pyramids, over twenty metres high, was the centre of the temple. It stood on a platform, with a stone gate in front, large enough to shield the Altar of Isis and the High Priestess, who wore a white robe and a golden mask that covered her face and upper body. She wasn’t as pale as the robes, but not by much. The whole was surrounded by a large contingent of mummies.

She was intoning a spell, the meaning of which only Willow understood. “Buffy! We need to take her out, quickly!”

Buffy lifted an eyebrow. “Really? I thought we could, like, totally go for coffee and catch up with Xander.”

Willow stuck out her tongue. 

Buffy threw the Scythe at Vi, who caught it and in a single movement chopped the five mummies who had been attacking her in half, then continued the swing to throw it at Adiwa who took down three on her first swing, let a few more close, and took out another six with the second. 

Buffy jumped onto a pyramid base and then against the side, lofting herself over the top of the crowd of mummies and landed in front of the altar behind which the High Priestess was standing.

“Hi!”

She held up a hand. Adiwa had thrown the Scythe and Buffy caught it and brought it down. “Bye!”

The High Priestess screamed and ducked, but Buffy hadn’t been aiming for her. The Scythe crashed down onto and then into the altar. Set on two half-round stones, it snapped in half and collapsed. The High Priestess gaped at her as around the temple the mummies started to collapse. Then she lifted her arms. 

“Isis! By your grace, allow thy servant to escape!”

The robe and mask fell to the ground and with a scurry a grey rat slipped between two broken stones into the foundations of the pyramid.

A fireball flashed against the crack and the robes went up in flames. The cartonnage of the mask caught fire as well.

“AMY!” Buffy yelled.

“I should’ve left that bitca a rat!” Willow growled as she lifted her hand to lob another fireball. 

Buffy stopped her. “Got a way to change her back?”

Willow shook her head. “Not with an invocation to Isis involved. Sorry.”

Buffy blew out a breath. “Well. We’ll get her. And Andrew too.”

“But we won’t hurt the little dog,” Xander said from the bottom of the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[Cartonnage](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cartonnage) was invented by the ancient Egyptians. I tend to call it a an early type of papier-mâché. (so does Wikipedia) **


	11. Chapter 11

They arrived at Rome HQ a few days later, to give them time to go over the site and deal with the greatest remaining dangers. Not that it was likely that anyone but the most greedy and lucky prospectors or archaeologists would get to the temple. And the likelihood of anyone coming back out again was even smaller.

A helicopter sent by Riley's team had been taken down by a ground to air branch.

Buffy wasn't pleased with the reception, however. The group's laughter died away immediately. “Oh. It's you.” 

She stared at Giles coldly. 

Giles nodded. “Buffy. I realise that you would prefer not to see me, but after Andrew turned out to be rotten, I looked into his communications. After I asked Willow to make them available to me.”

“And what did that little worm do that's so bad you need to get back into my sight and not let one of the girls do it?”

“When he picked up Dana, he made it clear to Angel that we would didn't trust him with her, or trust him at all due to his alliance with Wolfram and Hart,” Giles said.

“Well, I don't trust most people with Dana and Angel really is too caught up in himself to deal with her well,” Buffy shrugged. “Also, even if it is a plan to destroy W&H from within, it's the dumbest plan since hummus.”

“Hummus was a great plan,” Willow objected. “I'm sure it would have worked too.”

Buffy lifted an eyebrow at her. 

“Okay, so it was dumb,” she admitted. “But it got us all to laugh.”

Buffy laughed. “Yeah okay. Well, anyway, I'll send them a mail to warn them about Andrew and Amy.”

“We should also see if we can do something for Cordy,” Xander said. “Or at least find out what really happened to her.”

“Good point,” Buffy agreed. 

“All that is beside the point,” Giles said, taking off his glasses. “Apparently Spike is, well, not alive, but back, and working with Angel.”

Buffy froze. “Spike?”

“Yes,” Giles nodded. “I felt you ought to know.”

Buffy shook her head. “No doubt so you can try and kill him again. Well, we'll certainly look into it. Thanks for your effort.”

She left the room. The others followed.

Giles put his glasses back on. “Well, at least she didn't knock me out again,” he looked at the door. “I just hope it is all worth it.”

*************************************************************

“Okay, so I need to go to LA,” Buffy said, looking around. 

“I? What about us? I want to see Spike too!” Dawn interjected.

“You still have a concussion,” Buffy pointed out. “So no.”

“I don't have a concussion,” Willow said mildly. “And I'd like to talk to Fred and maybe try and get her to leave W&H.”

“Don't think the legal department is up for that,” Xander shook his head. “I think both of them would quit.”

“Maybe we can ask Joe if there's an Immortal or two who're lawyers,” Willow said. “There's got to be some, right?”

“Adam says that most Immortals have certain occupations they, like, gravitate to, because it matches their personality best.”

“What's MacLeod's?” Xander asked.

“Rescuing people,” Buffy grinned. Then her face became thoughtful. “Hmmm. He is like four hundred years old...”

“He might be useful, you mean?” Willow nodded. “Might be. But I'm still gonna ask Joe.”

************************************************************

“Immortals who are lawyers, to take on Wolfram and Hart?” Joe asked. “Seriously?”

Willow smiled at him and nodded. “Yup. That's what we're looking for.”

“Well, there are a few,” he said dubiously. “But I don't think you want them.”

“Why not?” Willow asked.

“Because not all Immortals are nice,” Joe replied. “And some of them might give even lawyers a bad name.”

“Aren't there any nice Immortal lawyers?” Willow frowned.

“There's a lot of Immortal rebels, revolutionaries and anarchists,” Joe said. “Lawyers, not so much.”

“Doctors?” Willow asked.

“A few,” Joe smiled. “But if you want someone who will make them sit up and take notice, take MacLeod.”

“Which one? Mr 'I cannot believe you let these children fight' or 'Mr I am not gonna get close to anybody because I've been hurt too often'?” Willow sniffed.

“The first, since I think that's Duncan,” Joe chuckled. 

“What's so scary about him?”

“He defeated a formless, bodiless evil known as Ahriman,” Joe smiled. 

Willow pursed her lips. “Did he now?”

“With a lot of help from a book we think was originally written, or at least compiled, by Methos, yes,” Joe nodded.

“What happened to that book?” Willow asked.

“We had to hand it over to one of Travers' stooges,” Joe said. “And I don't think it's in the library. But,” he reached into his bag. “Turns out that 'someone' made a copy.”

He pushed a sheaf of paper at Willow. “As well as a scan,” and added a CD-ROM.

Willow smiled at him. “I think this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

***************************************************************

“You're not coming to LA?” Buffy pouted at Adam. “Who're we gonna use for research?”

“You'll have Willow, Joe, MacLeod, who reads Latin and Greek and a lot of more modern languages, and your own skills,” Adam said, not looking up from his reading. “I need to read this to find out what MacLeod and Joe might have missed, and also see if Methos left clues in it.”

“Uh-huh,” Buffy crossed her arms. “You could, like, do that on the plane.”

Adam looked up and around the table, which was covered in papers and books. “Yes. I can see how that obviously is going to work fine.” 

Buffy smiled. “Okay, I'll tell Willow to book you a ticket!”

“That was sarcasm,” Adam said without looking up. “As you very well know. Also Los Angeles has no culture.”

“How dare you say that! It has one of the finest Neiman Marcus stores in the world!” Buffy glared.

“I rest my case,” Adam didn't look up.

Buffy stuck out her tongue.

*************************************************************

“So who is this Angel?” Duncan asked.

“He’s a vampire of less than average brains,” Xander said. “And more than average soul.”

“And he broods,” Willow added. “Like, totally broodingly.”

Duncan looked at Buffy, as if expecting her to add something.

She shrugged. “I got over him. Oh, also he’s possessive and fatalistic.”

“It’s the less than average brain and the brooding,” Xander supplied helpfully.

“But he tries, and at least he was somewhat of a force for good, some of the time,” Buffy shook her head. “And then he joined Wolfram and Hart, which is, like, Eisenhower going to work for the Nazi’s to destroy them from the inside out.”

“The less than average brains again,” Xander grinned.

“Right. That clarifies a lot,” Duncan shook his head.

“He went by Angelus when he was a vampire without a soul,” Willow rummaged in her bag. “I’ve got a picture here.”

She handed it to Duncan.

“Why do you have a picture of Angel in your bag?” Xander asked.

“Same reason I have one of Darla and Drusilla,” Willow said. “To show people when we're looking for them.”

“Darla's dead,” Buffy said darkly.

“She came back once,” Willow pointed out. “And the bad guys seem not to have any of our limitations, so I'm not taking any chances.”

Duncan had been scowling at the image. “Him!”

“You know him?” Xander asked surprised. “I thought that vampires and demons avoided your kind?”

“Would've been nice if he'd avoided me,” Duncan growled. “Beheading works on these guys, right?”

“Yeah,” Xander nodded. “And don't feel like it's cheating to shoot him in the balls first, either.”

“Xander!” Buffy said warningly. “We need to talk to him first.”

Duncan's hand flexed as if seeking the hilt of his sword. “Talk first, right.”

************************************************************ 

Angel scowled at the screen. “I got a mail from Willow. Apparently Andrew is a traitor, and a priest of Isis.”

“Never liked the little bugger,” Spike remarked, lighting a cigarette. “Always too smooth and slippery for my taste.”

“We thank you for not smoking,” Angel said. “Remember?”

“Yeah? I thank people for putting down a basket of fags,” Spike took a deep drag. “Anything else?”

“Apparently Amy Madison is a High Priestess of Isis,” Angel read, scowling at Spike. 

Spike smirked back.

There was a buzz. “Yes Harmony,” Angel said with a tired voice.

“Security says there’s a guy downstairs called Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Apparently he knows you.”

“Oh, fuck,” Angel said. “Tell security to keep him out!”

“Wasn't there a guy with that name whose girlfriend you killed?” Spike asked. “Chased us all the way across Europe.” 

“Yeah,” Angel said. 

“And wasn't he a friend of the Kalderash clan, before they went all twisted by hate?” Spike grinned at him.

“If it's the same guy, yeah. Might be a descendant,” Angel was rummaging through his desk.

“Want to take a bet for a hundred bucks on that?” Spike took a deep drag on his cigarette. 

“No,” Angel glared at him. “Can you stop smoking?”

Spike pointedly dropped his cigarette and ground it out on the priceless carpet. “Sure mate. Only need to ask me once.”

The buzzer went again. “Yes Harmony?” Angel asked exasperated.

“Ummm, he's not alone. He's with Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris, and from what security tells me, at least three other Slayers. Half of security is dead. The non-human half. Most of the other half are, like, totally hiding and begging them not to hurt them.” 

Angel whimpered. He was very glad to note, so did Spike.

***********************************************************

Spike was on the floor, clutching his balls. “Why did you do that?” he wheezed.

Buffy crossed her arms. “You have to ask?”

Spike shook his head. “Hug was nice.”

“Yeah, well, the hug was from Dawn,” Buffy muttered. “And a little bit from me.”

Spike sat up, wincing. “You didn't kick him in the nadgers,” he nodded at Angel who, immediately after seeing what had happened to Spike, had taken cover by sitting behind his desk. 

“Yeah, well, he's just being normal Angel and totally beyond stupid,” Buffy said. “With you, it's personal.”

Spike smirked at Angel. Angel glared back.

“So what we heard about you and the Immortal?” Spike asked, hope in his voice.

“That was a doppelgänger set up by Giles and a bit by Dawn,” Buffy replied. “Dawn didn't know all of Giles' plans. Also, the Immortal is now dead.”

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Really? He's a tough, sneaky son of a bitch.”

“Took his head. Watched the lightshow, it didn't hit me and that was that,” Buffy said brusquely.

Spike pursed his lips. “Well, not one to doubt your ability to kill things, Buffy, but I won't believe he's really dead for real until I piss on his head and it stops talking. Always talking, the smug bastard.”

Buffy sent him a look. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Eighteen-eighties?” Spike looked at Angel, who scowled. “In Syracuse.”

“New York?” Buffy frowned.

“No, the real one,” Spike replied. “Stop acting blonde.”

“Well, that's more likely,” Buffy admitted. “Okay. Let's get out of here and talk. So they,” she looked around distastefully, “Can’t listen in.”

*************************************************************

Buffy was looking at him as if he was something that had damaged her shoes. It was a few degrees worse than the things found under your shoe look.

They were at the Hyperion, where Willow had set a number of wards against eavesdropping, as well as a couple of devices. 

She and Fred had then headed up to Fred's room, to discuss the little devices and science in general. 

One of the Slayers, a dark eyed girl called Kennedy, had looked after them unhappily. 

Xander had patted her shoulder awkwardly. 

Angel was pretty good at missing certain things. But he was sure there had been something between Kennedy and Willow and that whatever it had been was now over. And that Kennedy was still unhappy about it.

And he might be crap at relationships, according to both Buffy and Cordelia, he had seen enough to realise that Fred was looking at Willow and Willow at Fred when Willow had been in LA before.

All that however, wouldn't distract Buffy. 

“I can explain-”

“If it's the 'destroying them from within' explanation, that's the dumbest since, you know, if I was Blackadder I could think of something, but I don’t think anyone has ever done anything this dumb. Actually, ‘Mr I am Angel, I have a cunning plan’? You know, Baldrick? He’d have laughed his head off at this one. All that sorta plan would mean is you're gonna get killed and maybe one of you is gonna get turned to evil.” 

“Ah,” Angel said. “Errr... Well I wanted to save Connor.”

“You mean the son you got when Darla came back, which fact you didn't inform us of until it was too late?” Buffy crossed her arms.

“Well, yeah,” Angel admitted.

“And then he got kidnapped, because you guys are even worse at communicating than we are,” Buffy shook her head. “I mean, he's a total dick, but at least Wesley could have called Giles to ask his opinion. Even it would have been, like, a complete dick opinion.” 

Angel shuffled his feet. “You'll have to talk to Wesley about that.”

“And though she totally doesn't like to mess with people's minds, Willow could've Tabula Rasa'd Connor and we could've talked to Riley's people and have gotten him off with a lot less soul-selling than you lot did. Unless Andrew got between that as well?”

Angel had a hopeful moment. 

Then Buffy shook her head. “No, you just forgot, right?”

Angel winced.

“Well, at least we're hopefully in time to save Cordy,” Buffy looked up. “Willow is discussing it with Fred.”

Angel dared to raise an eyebrow at that. 

Buffy smiled indulgently. “Though that won't stop her flirting.”

************************************************************

To those who knew, the Deeper Well wasn't just the place where the sarcophagi of the God Kings, holding and hiding their sleeping animae, were kept. It was a highway. From it you could not just travel from one end to the other, so from the Cotswolds to New Zealand. But there were branches. The God-Kings slept uneasily, and in their dreams created paths.

And in their dreams, some people, like the ones so easily categorised by Western scholars as 'shamans', could walk these paths.

And if you knew what you were doing, if you knew where the entrances were, you could walk them even physically. Happily all roads led to Rome. Or at least, there were two portals there.

Adam knew a great many of the entrances to the paths, a great many things about them, but right now he not only wanted to travel them, but to see if a rumour he had heard was true.

Hence his detour to the main Northern Hemisphere entrance to the Well, the one that even idiots could find, and his current conversation with Drogyn the Battlebrand, the Guardian of the Deeper Well.

“So Illyria's coffin is missing,” Adam said, taking a sip from the rather excellent whisky he'd brought.

“Not something we want to bruit about,” Drogyn said. “But if you could help in tracking it down, I'd be very grateful. Not the safest thing to be out in the world.”

Adam nodded. “How did they get it out?”

“Long-term sacrifice, knowledge of the Dreamways, then another couple of sacrifices as they removed the anchors and moved it along the ways,” Drogyn grimaced. “They killed two of my guards near the end. And a bunch of the Way Wyrds”

Adam nodded sympathetically. “I'll see what I can do.”

“More than most,” Drogyn toasted him. “And I'll owe you.”

Adam snorted. “The world will owe me, but that has never counted for much.”

“Were you involved in that Ahriman mess?” Drogyn asked. 

“Wasn't the vessel this time, thankfully. MacLeod got saddled with that,” Adam said cheerfully. “Four victories, and only three more times to go and then all that will be behind us.”

“I'll drink to that,” Drogyn raised his glass in a toast, again.

“After that you can tell me how to get the bloody thing back in here, and then I must be on my way,” Adam said as they clinked glasses. 

Drogyn sipped the whisky, savouring it, then smirked. “Let me tell you about that, old boy…”

************************************************************

Xander was holding Cordelia’s hand. It was cold, chill even. Willow was muttering under her breath and burning some herbs. 

Doctors had looked at her oddly, but it was a private room and they weren’t going to complain too loudly. 

“Okay. We need to get her out of here,” Willow said.

“But the life support,” Wesley objected, then sank back when Willow glared at him.

“This,” Willow waved a hand around at the medical paraphernalia, “Isn’t helping. Her very soul has been shaken by all the mystical crap she’s been put through, and before we can even think about doing something for her body, we need to deal with that. Unless you think having her die would serve some greater good?”

Wesley mumbled something inaudible. 

“Suddenly not seeing the big picture?” Buffy said sweetly. “Or not feeling very righteous and right anymore? Okay, let’s get her out of here.”

***********************************************************

Cordy looked very small and pale in the big bed in the room at the Hyperion they’d decided on using. They needed more room than her own apartment offered.

“We’ll need to let Dennis know she’s here,” Fred said. 

“Dennis?” Buffy asked.

“Ghost of a guy who was walled up in there by his mom,” Fred replied. “Can you really help her?”

Willow shook her head, “Yeah, I can.”

“That’s the resolve face,” Xander smiled. “Means whatever’s the matter with Cordy had better watch out.”

“I will need some medical equipment for later, and also some pretty rare ingredients for the later rituals, but I've got those on hand,” Willow handed a list to Angel. “I’m sure you can get this without further tarnishing your soul?”

Angel winced.

************************************************************* 

Angel looked around and put his collar up, before hastening through the lobby. Outside his car was waiting to take him to Wolfram and Hart. Duncan MacLeod had been watching him like a hawk. 

He’d promised not to have words with him until after he’d arranged what was needed for Cordy. 

Problem was, money was enough to get all that, and Angel had enough money. 

MacLeod had plenty of reason to want to have his words. The things he’d done as Angelus, and the things he’d not done as Angel. He’d let a lot of people die while he wallowed in his guilt.

People MacLeod had cared about, and people he hadn’t even known. That didn't matter, to the Highlander, it was the principle of the thing.

And Angel wasn’t sure if he could take the man. In the first place he was older than him, which rankled a little. In the second place, Immortals healed very fast and tended to be faster and stronger than mortals.

In the third place, if he hurt MacLeod, his Immortal friends might come looking for him. And Buffy would certainly find him first.

He was outside, and he looked around. The car drew up, swiftly and silently.

Duncan, who’d been leaning in a shadowed corner, pushed himself off the wall. “I see you’re done. Good. We can have some of those words I’ve wanted to have with you then.”

Angel looked over his shoulder, wide-eyed, then scurried into his car as he saw the glint of light on steel. He might beat the man in hand to hand combat, he sure as hell wasn’t a match for MacLeod with a sword.

“Get back here, you cowardly cur!” Duncan shouted after the disappearing car.

***************************************************************

Duncan was getting rid of some of his tension by facing off against Spike. Spike had laughed very hard at hearing that Angel had run, then had offered to fight him with swords. 

Duncan had to admit he was good. He was stronger than a human, and faster, and used that to his advantage.

He was sweating freely. He hadn’t felt this good about sparring in a long while. Spike had told him that basically any damage except spinal damage and beheading him was fair game.

As long as he helped pick up any severed limbs and fingers fast and put them on within the minute or so, before they fell to dust. It would take longer for them to become fully functional again, but not as long as growing them from scratch.

He rather liked Spike. From what he heard, he and Buffy were like an epic love story, but a doomed one. Nothing as wimpy as Romeo and Juliette of course. No, almost Wagnerian. Mythical. Both heroes, not teenagers too hormonal to think straight. 

He held up his hand and wiped the sweat from his face. Spike did the same. He hadn’t known vampires sweated.

“Drink?” Spike said. “I stole some of Angelhair’s Scotch stash. Wasted on an Irishman anyway.”

Duncan grinned. He could get to like this vampire. 

***************************************************************

“So, any luck on the lawyer?” Buffy spoke into the phone.

“Well, not really,” Joe admitted. “Like I said, most of the good ones aren’t always nice. A pretty good up and coming one was killed a few years ago. The best, well, he’s been dead a while and he specialised in Canon Law.”

“Crap. Well, keep looking, please. Does Adam have any suggestions from studying up on Methos?” Buffy asked.

“Don’t think so. I’ll ask him when I meet him,” Joe assured her. ‘When the Old Man deigns to show up again.’ But he knew enough not to tell Buffy he was gone, mostly because Methos had asked him. 

He wondered what Buffy would do when she found out what games the Old Man had been playing.

“Thanks. Okay, I gotta go help Willow.”

***************************************************************

Duncan looked at the small cut on his arm, blood flowing into the bowl Willow had placed below it after her deft cut. Lightning ran over it and Willow sang, or at least croaked, over it.

The girl had an awful singing voice. That didn’t stop the mixture in the bowl from being merged into a single, glimmering, shimmering bluish liquid, even if Duncan had half-expected it to curdle from the bum notes. It was still odd, since a lot of it was blood. His, and some from Spike’s and some from Buffy, mixed with some herbs and spices that were apparently very old. Also a yolk and an egg, added separately and then another one whole. 

“Thanks, that should do it,” Willow smiled up at him. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Well, without an Immortal.”

Duncan smiled at her. “I hope it works.”

Willow went to the bed and started spooning the stuff into Cordelia, still singing. Fred joined her, then Wesley.

Buffy grimaced. “I hope that stuff tastes better than blood.”

Spike grinned at her. “Nothing ever tastes as good as yours, luv.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, but didn’t seem completely displeased.

The bowl was emptied, Cordelia swallowing each spoonful. Then a trickle of electricity, Quickening to Duncan’s senses, flowed over her. His Quickening. Her eyelids fluttered. She opened them. Colour had returned to her cheeks.

“Willow?” 

“Hello Cordelia,” Willow said, sounding hoarse and tired. “Hope you don’t mind, but I messed up the plans some nasty people had for you.”

Cordelia snorted, then coughed. “I feel awful.”

“You’ll need some medical care still,” Willow said. “A lot of your body was under a lot of strain, but I kicked out the demonic bits, and everything that was left from all the earlier infestations, and the icky pregnancy, and that Jasmine bitch. I’ve had lots of experience at kicking out old, powerful demonic influences.”

Cordelia nodded. “Can I go to sleep properly now? Or will that kill me?” 

“We’ve got everything we need here. A doctor is outside, but you’re gonna need dialysis and I want you on a heart monitor,” Willow told her.

Cordy sighed and leaned back. “Okay. Willow? Who’s the salty goodness with the awesome cheekbones and the well packed trousers?”

Duncan blushed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 12**

The Dreamways were… disturbed. Moving Illyria’s sarcophagus through them had unsettled things. In Methos’ mind, he could not afford to be fully Adam here, it was like a too heavy truck had driven over a road and torn up the surface.

That was the explanation he would give to a layman, anyway. Willow might understand him, and some few shamans, but to most people, the big truck simile would have to do. It had caused changes he'd need to study carefully. Some were very strange, beyond anything he'd seen before. Of course, no one had ever been stupid enough to move a God King's sarcophagus before, not to his knowledge. And he'd been around a while. 

Not that Methos would explain about the Dreamways to anyone. They were dangerous enough that he wanted people to remain ignorant of them. He would probably have to tell the Senior Council about them, or at least Buffy, Xander and Willow.

The disturbance did make it easier to take the right path. It was like following a trail of boulders, for heaven's sake. He'd have words with Drogyn about his people not noticing that. Methos didn't pretend to know all the Dreamways, he had long ago stopped travelling them regularly. It was dangerous, and modern transport was getting ever faster, if not as fast as the ways forged by the power of sleeping God-Kings. New ones formed, old ones collapsed as the God-Kings dreamt and faded. He wondered what moving its coffin would do to the Dreamways and more importantly to the essence of Illyria. The God-King might be stirred to greater wakefulness, and might forge new Ways.

Of course he was pretty sure that whoever had taken the thing had different, more dangerous plans than merely accelerating the expansion of the Ways. 

He could feel the end of the Way coming up. He settled his backpack, checked his weapons and moved to the exit.

***********************************************************

Knox was annoyed. Fred was supposed to be drawn into investigating the appearance of a strange sarcophagus, discovered by the death of plant life in the surrounding area, but instead she'd delegated the responsibility to Hogan. “Hogan of all people,” Knox muttered. “Man couldn't find his ass with a roadmap and a satellite navigation system.”

Of course the careful editing of the Library that Knox had seen to made investigating the sarcophagus very hard. He'd done it with Fred in mind, which meant that Hogan had less chance than a snowball in hell of finding information about it. All the clues had been aimed at Fred's much higher intelligence. 

Well, the sarcophagus was well-protected. He'd set a few extra traps that would deal with Hogan. Actually that might have been Fred's plan, to deal with the incompetent Hogan by giving him an assignment he could not complete. His heart warmed at the thought, but he did fear it wasn't true.

There was also the little detail that the very presence of the sarcophagus drove lesser men insane and its touch was eventual death. Sometimes very eventual and very painful. Only those truly in the service of the God-King were somewhat safe. And those who knew the rituals to appease the Great Illyria.

The demons he'd hired to carry it and the shaman to guide him along the Ways were all dead already. Though he had personally hurried along the shaman a little. No chance taking the risk, the man knew enough not to die.

A few more would die in transporting it from its hiding place in a cave the foothills. They didn't need to, since if Hogan wasn't incompetent even simple precautions would prevent that for the short while it would take to move the sarcophagus. Hogan, of course. was massively incompetent. He couldn't even draw a circle of salt.

The alarm he'd set on the cave went off. But Hogan hadn't left yet, he was still going through the archives to see if anything was known about the cave. Knox frowned. He couldn't risk some idiot interfering with his plans. 

He put his work away, carefully, and clocked out for the day. 

**************************************************************

“Buffy?” Willow asked.

“Yeah?” Buffy looked, rather reluctantly away from the sparring session between Duncan and Spike. They were both very good, and very good to look at too.

Though it was better to spar against a Mini than against a Watcher, Spike was better than any bar maybe her and Faith and Duncan had been fighting for four hundred years or so. Experience counted. 

“Fred and me, we were talking to Cordelia,” Willow said. “Cordelia Saw something.”

“I thought that you were gonna make it so she didn't have visions anymore?” Buffy frowned.

“We're working on that, to try to make them less painful,” Willow grimaced. “But she doesn't want to get rid of them, because they do help people. And you know how stubborn Cordelia can be.”

Buffy shook her head. “Crap. Okay, what did she see?”

“A huge swathe of dead greenery in the hill country, and a bunch of Girl Scouts heading into it,” Fred said. “And some sort of Sarcophagus.”

“Great,” Buffy muttered. “Get all the info you can and we'll look into it.”

“Cordy described the Sarcophagus, and I put it into the Database,” Willow said. “Unless Andrew managed to screw that up, it's a Big Bad situation. ”

“Something big and bad in the thing?” Buffy wondered if she had time to shower and change. Otherwise she'd be stinky Buffy in the car.

Willow nodded. “Looks like a God-King's, but we can't tell from what Cordy told us which one. Not that we have a list of what they all look like, but still.”

“That's one of those Prime Beef Order thingies, right?” Buffy took her towel off her shoulders.

“God King of the Primordium,” Fred said, failing to hold in a giggle. She sobered immediately. “Very dangerous, it will kill and cause harm just from bein' around.”

“They’re sorta amongst the Biggest and Baddest when they’re awake. Think a competent Glory,” Willow added.

“Then let's go and make sure no one gets too close,” Buffy said with a grimace. “And we really want to avoid the waking bit.”

**************************************************************

“Hello!” Adam said as he stepped out from between two rocks. “Please don’t drink that. Not even after boiling it!”

The group of girl scouts screamed and the Scout leader accompanying them, who had just dipped a kettle into the creek, fell back on her butt.

She glared at him. “Why not? We’ve done it before!”

In answer Adam pointed higher up the hills. The vegetation was brown, brittle and dead. “I’m Dr Henry Danes, with the EPA. We were called in on a suspicion of a chemical spill or dump. Considering that, I’d really advise you not to drink any water that flows through that area.”

The Troop Leader paled and looked around to see if any of the troop had drunk any. They solemnly shook their heads. “You hadn’t boiled it yet, mom,” one girl said. Quite a few of them were older than the usual Girl Scout, and clearly watching out for the younger ones. It was a large troop.

Adam nodded approvingly and held out his hand to the troop leader. “A taut ship you run, Miss…?”

“Mrs Nefler, Phyllis Nefler” she said with a smile, accepting his aid. “This is my Troop, the 332, Beverly Hills.”

Adam smiled. “Delighted to meet you all. And sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“I’m very thankful for your intervention,” Phyllis assured him. “Well. We’ll have to go elsewhere, girls.”

The girls looked a bit disappointed. Adam cleared his throat. “A Park Ranger told me that there’s an old Native American camp an hour or two down that path and then up into the valley, near the crooked tree with three forks. If you treat it respectfully, I’m sure you’d be welcome to visit it.”

Mrs Nefler looked at the girls, who had cheered up a lot. “Thank you, Dr Danes. Any idea when this area will be safe again?”

Adam shook his head. “Sorry, we just got here. Keep an eye on the signs I’m sure will go up soon,” he looked around. “Should have been up already, they may have started at another path. The EPA and the police no doubt will make statements too, and get in contact with regular users to ask if they’ve seen anything out of the ordinary.”

Mrs Nefler nodded. “Thank you very much, Dr Danes.”

“You do have enough water?” he asked.

“Yes, we were just going to do a campfire test and it’s a waste of the wood not to make some tea or chocolate,” Mrs Nefler smiled.

Adam laughed. “Well, I hope we meet again at a better time.”

He watched them leave and went back up the hill. The cave he’d come out of when he heard their voices had to be explored. He was pretty sure the Sarcophagus was still there. 

***************************************************************

“You seem to know the area quite well,” Wesley remarked.

“Yeah. Used to come here a lot as a kid, before we moved,” Buffy said.

“Really? Didn’t know you were much of a walking girl,” Willow frowned.

“Yeah, well, Mom thought it’d be a good idea if I became a Girl Scout,” Buffy ginned. “Our Troop Leader was the mom of one of my best friends, Mrs Nefler, and she had both the normal badges and really cool ones like ‘Accessorising’. 

“Now that sounds like the Buffy we know,” Willow grinned.

“I do know how to make a fire and all that stuff, first aid. But then I got more into ice skating and had to quit,” Buffy shrugged. “We need to leave the car here.”

Willow murmured something at Xander who had a coughing spasm.

Buffy heard them, and wondered why possibly Adam might be interested in the fact that she’d been a scout. But she did wonder with Willow if the uniform still fit her. Maybe her dad still had it. Maybe it was time to see if that bond was too broken to be fixed. She'd give him one last chance.

*************************************************************

Methos was waiting. The cave which held the exit from the Ways was also where the Sarcophagus was hidden. It felt very much like a trap to him. 

He wondered who it was for. Considering the location, probably one of Angel's group, or if the planner was flexible enough, Buffy and her friends.

He would not allow that, and he would make sure to deal with the plotters, harshly. Though if they were about to open the Sarcophagus or release the essence in another way, he would act before they had revealed themselves.

This was probably not a plan by the Isis cultists. Isis would not want a God-King around, not in her evil nor in her benevolent form.

He also hoped to pull this off without the Scoobies, especially Buffy, finding out about his involvement. 

He had re-raised a sign outside the cave, stating a considerable risk of collapse. He hoped that would keep people out. 

He had at least established that most likely there was most likely only one conspirator left. The ones responsible for carrying the sarcophagus had been sacrificed to it. Heaps of ash and two demonic corpses lay in secluded areas of the cave system.

That meant that the Sarcophagus had been empowered further, which explained the circle of death surrounding the cave.

He was greatly looking forward to dealing with whoever was behind this, before getting the thing back to where it belonged. At least the Battlebrand had supplied some of his guards, who would be able by the protection of their vows to shake off the ill effects. Even if the shmucks were unwilling to join him in the cave.

There was a sound and a man came in. Methos didn't know him. He had the furtive look of someone who was afraid of what he might find. He also screamed of the turbulence in the Ways, of contact with the Sarcophagus. 

He disabled some of the traps that Methos had carefully avoided. Long experience, judicious use of what little magic he’d mastered and a very useful item or two had helped with that. 

“I know you’re here, Hogan,” he called out in an unsteady voice. He had a gun in his pocket, Methos was fairly sure.

He drew his own and fired.

The man fell screaming, clutching his stomach and destroyed hand and damaged weapon. Methos fired again, sending the weapon skittering and crossed over to the sobbing man. 

“You're not Hogan?” he whispered. “Who are you? Why did you shoot me?”

“Someone old and wise enough to recognise the false promises of fallen kings,” Methos said. “Though in your case you pledged your soul to a few too many, haven't you?”

He hunkered down and reached into the man’s pocket, absently batting away his feeble attempt with his good hand to stop him. “Mr Jonathan Knox. I see you work in the Research Division of Wolfram and Hart. And you serve Illyria. How silly of you.”

Knox gasped. 

“A few spells are not going to stop me from seeing the truth, Mr Knox,” Methos smiled thinly. “I assume you’re not willing to tell me what you were planning? A body for your fallen god?”

Knox clamped his lips together.

Adam nodded. “I didn’t think so. Ah well. Now, I have to make sure that your idiocy doesn’t come home to roost on the rest of the world.”

Knox smirked. “You won’t be able to move it, it will kill you. It will cause death to all within thousands of miles. Death will travel with it!”

“Not yet,” Methos smiled. “You haven’t managed to make someone create a bond with it. All your sacrifices haven’t done that. And it hasn’t yet drawn in any innocents, in spite of your plans.”

He put the wallet aside and ripped the man’s shirt open, then the undershirt. “Now before I kill you, Mr Knox,” pulled off his rubber glove, putting it in his pocket, and dipped his fingers into Knox’s wound.

Knox screamed. Methos carefully drew a symbol on his bare chest, and another on his forehead, murmuring words. 

Knox whimpered. “Who are you? How are you doing this?”

Methos didn’t reply, merely wiped his bloody fingers, pulled on a new rubber glove and reached into his backpack, coming out with a pair of pliers. “Someone who can’t afford to leave any evidence. This will only hurt a lot for a relatively short time.” 

Knox screamed.

“Do please bleed a bit more, Mr Knox. I need some more to finish what needs to be done.”

*************************************************************

“This is the place,” Willow said. “Fits Cordelia’s description. Also it feels icky.”

“And all the plants are dead,” Buffy said sadly. “Wonder how long it will be before that recovers. Let’s go in.”

She concentrated and grasped the Scythe from the air. It bristled. “It really doesn’t like these God-King people.”

Wesley looked at it as if he wanted to rip it from her hands and investigate it more closely. “It might be the weapon that legends say was used to slay them.”

A bolt of lightning hit the Scythe as Buffy stuck it in the cave. Buffy grimaced. “Wow. Tingly.”

Willow giggled. “Allow me,” she waved her hands about and cast some herbs in the air. There was a crack. “Traps be gone,” she intoned. “Well, the magical ones.”

Buffy nodded and went in. “There’s a dead guy here.”

Wesley was second and looked over her shoulder. “That’s Knox. He works for Wolfram and Hart, in Research, as Fred’s assistant.”

“Well, he isn’t going to be doing that anytime soon again,” Buffy said. “Oh wait, you people have that get back from the dead and serve for all eternity thing.”

“They’re not my people,” Wesley said. 

“Could’ve fooled me, what with the salary and nice apartment and company title,” Buffy smiled sweetly. “Okay. Someone shot him, I can smell it, and someone painted some things on him in his own blood. Also I don’t see any shiny coffins.” 

“I don’t think we will,” Wesley knelt by Knox. “This is the Symbol of the Guardian of the Deeper Well. I’d say that the Guardian was less than impressed with the theft and came after the thieves. And dealt with them.”

Willow was looking at the wall. “There’s a weakness here. As if someone teleported or something. It's kinda weird.”

Buffy looked at the corpse. “Are the marks a punishment?”

“No,” Wesley shook his head and pointed at some of the walls. The symbol was repeated there. “It contains the power of the God-Kings. It might be a punishment in the case of Knox, since if he was dedicated to Illyria, he would not be able to sense her, or claim her protection against Wolfram and Hart. Who would not be pleased by the return of a God-King.”

Buffy nodded. “Well. We’ll have to thank this Guardian guy later. Where does he live?”

“The most likely one is Drogyn the Battlebrand. The guy on the other end really isn't very nice. Drogyn lives in the Cotswolds. ”

“Figures,” Xander said. “He probably is all stiff upper lipped and tweed clad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End Note:**
> 
> **I do not own** [ **Troop Beverly Hills** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Troop_Beverly_Hills) **. I made them Girl Scouts, not Wilderness Girls.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan**

**Chapter 13**

“How's Fred holding up?” Buffy asked.

“She's pretty shook up,” Willow said, not looking up from her cooking. “Knox was her primary assistant and we're pretty sure he left her a trail so that she would be at least interested in investigating the thing, and probably become the Vessel of Illyria or something.”

Buffy shook her head. “Glad the scumbag's gone. So, what do we do about Angel and his dumb stunt?”

“You mean joining Wolfram and Hart? Or hiring Harmony?”

“Hiring Harmony is just dumb,” Buffy said. “She's almost too pathetic to stake.”

“Almost?” Willow tilted her head. “She lost to Xander in a hair pulling contest.”

“She's got more hair. She did kidnap Dawn. And she killed people, even if she's kept to pig's blood for a while,” Buffy pointed out. “I'll, like, give it some thought.”

“You did take out the entire Security Team. Well, the non-human part,” Willow said. “And it's not like you need to stake Harmony right now. Even when she was trying to be bad she was pathetic.”

“Those teams are far too easily replaced,” Buffy frowned. “I'd like to take out Special Operations as a whole. I wonder if Joe has made any progress on that Immortal Lawyer.”

“He's only had two days,” Willow shook her head. “And they have to want to do it. Sounded out, know about or be told about the rest of the supernatural. I mean, Mac 'didna know', and he's like four centuries old.”

“Your Scottish accent is terrible,” Buffy smiled.

“Not as bad as his,” Willow started to spoon the contents of the pan onto the flat bread.

“Taco for Fred?” Buffy asked.

“She does love her tacos,” Willow said.

“I bet she does,” Buffy smirked.

************************************************************

Buffy looked at the house. Sometime after the divorce her father had returned to the old house, the house she'd grown up in. He'd been renting it out, and living in the old guest house, until he'd gone to Spain.

Considering that his daughters only visited him a few weeks every year, the small bedrooms, thankfully well air-conditioned, under the roof were enough. Even if the shoes and books he bought them tended to overflow into other spaces nearing the end of their stay.

Buffy rang the bell. After a while the door was opened by a tall, distracted looking woman with tousled long dark brown hair, large dark eyes, who looked to be in her middle thirties, who was trying to manage two toddlers.

“Ummm...” Buffy went. “I'm looking for Hank Summers?”

One of the toddlers looked at her and smiled widely as she hugged her legs. Buffy patted her head as a wet kiss hit her knee. “Buffy!”

The woman looked pained. “That can't be Buffy, Eva. You know what daddy told you. Buffy's dead.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest. Then shook her head. “It's complicated.” 

The woman looked at her. “Look, you're probably related. But he really misses her and seeing you without warning... You really look a lot like his daughter, Buffy.”

Buffy shook her head again, still absently fondling one blonde little head while the other was looking at her with considerable scepticism for a two year old. “Yeah, I get that a lot. May I ask your name?”

“Oh, sorry,” the woman shook her head. “I was surprised by your appearance, and forgot my manners. I'm Anne. Anne Summers, I still use Lindsey at work. These are Eva and Aileen.”

Eva smiled up at her and held up her arms, waiting to be picked up. Aileen ducked behind her mother's legs.

Buffy took a deep breath and let it out. “I'm... I think I'd better leave.”

Suddenly the woman frowned and put a hand on Buffy's arm, leaning in. Her eyes narrowed. “Buffy? Did you come back? From being dead?”

The woman asked it with complete seriousness. Buffy just nodded.

Anne let out a breath. “Great. How do we explain that to your father?”

“Is Buffy?” Eva looked up at her mother hopefully.

“Yes, Eva, this is Buffy,” Anne said. “Let's go inside. Oh, please keep your sword away from the kids, and be warned, Mary can get into everything.”

**********************************************************

Buffy was sitting on the couch in the living room of her youth she'd sat in so often. There was a picture of her on the wall. Actually it was a picture of her, Dawn and their mom. Dawn had insisted they send it to him, that had been the year she'd gone to college.

“Hank never said you were adopted,” Anne said, pouring her coffee while keeping an eye on where Eva and Aileen were playing, with a lot of high-pitched squeals.

Mary was sitting at the table, where she was supposed to be reading a book that Buffy figured was way too difficult for the average six year old, but she kept looking at Buffy, then at the portrait. She looked like she was fit to burst from all the questions she wanted to ask. Her mother had plunked a set of headphones on her and firmly commanded her to sit and wait. It was clearly hard on her, the little girl was vibrating in her chair with excitement and curiosity. 

“I'm not,” Buffy said.

“You have to be, Immortals always are,” Anne sat down.

Buffy let out her breath. “Okay. So you think I'm an Immortal. I'm not. I came back... another way.”

“There's other ways of coming back than being Immortal?” Anne asked, clearly shocked.

“How do you know about Immortals?” Buffy asked. “I'm not being evasive, I just need to know if there's a common base of knowledge I can explain things from.”

“A friend of mine, well, more than a friend, turned out be one. I kept being chased and kidnapped by other Immortals after his head, so I decided for my safety and Mary's I had to, well, end it. He gave me a house,” Anne finished. “I miss him sometimes.”

“Almost sounds like Duncan,” Buffy muttered. “Stupidly noble.”

“Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod?” Anne shook her head. “Figures he'd be involved.”

“Would it help you believe me if you called him?” Buffy asked.

“I have no idea where he is,” Anne said. “He might be in Paris.”

“He's in LA, we got here the other day to deal with a mess,” Buffy reached for her phone.

“Yeah, that certainly sounds like him,” Anne sat back. Her face was thoughtful. “Buffy? Hank told me that you... well were a good girl, but at one point that you believed that you were some mystical champion, to fight vampires and demons? He always said that if he'd been more understanding, a better father, he would have been wise enough not to send you, to, you know...”

“An institution,” Buffy nodded grimly. “But yeah, it’s all true. I'll give you a low down on the things to do and not to do. It's not comfortable being related to me.”

“Is that what happened to Dawn?” Anne asked, her voice kind and gentle.

“Dawn? Dawn gets kidnapped every other Tuesday, and the last one got her a concussion which is why she isn't here,” Buffy admitted. “We don't want that for the even squirtier squirts.”

“Dawn's alive too?” Anne groaned. “How do we explain that to him?”

“If we get him from Immortals to undead, we can work on that,” Buffy shook her head. “At least it explains why he doesn't answer our mails. Duncan? I'm at my dad's and there's an old friend of yours here, with two of my half-siblings and a step-sister. Does the name Anne Lindsey mean anything to you?”

****************************************************************

Buffy was whirling Eva around in a circle and the little girl was squealing with excitement and joy. Aileen was watching it with suspicious eyes.

Anne was talking to Duncan. Duncan had seemed a bit sad that Anne had married, but he'd made his peace with it. He did look at the children with surprising wistfulness.

Willow was trying to entertain Mary. Mary was basically a dark-haired younger version of Willow, Buffy felt. She babbled questions like a brook and Willow was hard pressed to keep up with her.

Willow was there to show magic, once her father came home. Mary had been ill, and Anne had come home early to take care of her since Gabriela, the same nanny who'd babysat her and Dawn was ill as well.

Her father had stayed home to care for the kids but had gone shopping and should be home any minute now.

Buffy heard a car pull into the driveway and stop near the backdoor. As long as she could remember the groceries had been carried in there, to be stowed away in the larder, in easy reach of the kitchen. 

Anne rose. “I'll go help unload and prepare him.”

Buffy sat waiting anxiously. She heard her father ask who was watching the kids, heard Anne assure him that there was someone trustworthy there. 

She heard her dad get in a quick kiss. He'd done that with her mom, too.

Then he came into the sitting room. 

The Twins turned as one. Eva squealed in glee as if she hadn't just seen him an hour or two ago before he went grocery shopping and toddled over as fast as her plump little legs could carry her. Aileen followed, without the noise.

Hank Summers knelt to hug them.

Then he rose. “Anne? Why is this person here?” He was vibrating with quiet anger and grief. 

“She's really Buffy,” Anne said. “Mary, Eva, Aileen. Come with me. Daddy has to talk to Buffy.”

Mary opened her mouth to protest, but at a look from her mother decided that this was probably not the best time and followed. 

Buffy let out the breath she'd been holding. “Daddy? I'm really not dead.”

Hank sat down heavily. “I got a notice. I paid for a fucking gravestone. You and Dawn were struck by lightning! The police sent me the report. There wasn't enough left of you to bury, they said!”

“People struck by lightning don't burn up completely,” Willow interrupted. 

Hank looked at her.

“Errr... I'll go and talk to Mary some more,” Willow said hastily and fled.

“She's your, Buffy's, friend from Sunnydale,” Hank looked at Duncan. “Who are you? Anne has a picture of you, you're an old boyfriend, right? Duncan McLeod?”

“I am,” Duncan agreed. 

“Pleased to meet you. I like what you did with the Seacouver house,” Hank greeted him by shaking his hand. “Do you know who Mary's biological father is? Anne won't say and the scumbag took advantage of her and won't even meet Mary.”

“I may have a name, if I can help beat him up,” Duncan said.

“Deal,” Hank agreed. “So you know Buffy?”

“Yes,” Duncan nodded. “And she really is Buffy.”

“And how is she alive?” Hank looked back at Buffy. “How are you alive?”

“Magic,” Buffy said. “A different kind of magic than Duncan uses.”

“Duncan uses magic?” Hank suddenly looked at the other man a lot more unkindly. 

Duncan nodded. “Buffy isn't like me, but I can show you something that may help you understand.” He clicked a knife open and before Hank could react, sliced across his arm.

He winced. Hank swore and reached for a cloth he'd been using to clean dirty toddler faces.

Duncan let him staunch it, as best he could. Blood seeped through and fell onto the plastic sheet covered table. Sparks flew and Hank pulled his hand back, wide-eyed. The slowed and stopped. Duncan took the cloth and used the small clean area to wipe the blood away from where the wound had been.

“How?” Hank asked, stammered, looking at Buffy.

“A kind of magic,” Buffy repeated. “A different kind of magic.”

Hank sobbed, once, then started to cry and Buffy went and hugged him. 

Duncan muttered something about cleaning up and left them alone.

*********************************************************

Adam was feeding her. It was the most embarrassing thing since, well, ever. She was glaring at him, but he was ignoring her, and the fact she was totally an adult 

So she'd spilled some soup on a book. It wasn't one of the expensive, rare ones. It had been some sort of diary, of some eighteenth century Watcher called Edward Adams Abel. That was no reason to treat her like a baby. Okay, she wasn't supposed to have been reading at all. And certainly not a Watcher's Journal, when a lot of the originals had been destroyed.

Then her phone rang, the Ride of the Valkyries. She reached for it, but Adam intercepted her. “Yes, Buffy?”

“Adam? What are you doing on Dawn's phone?”

“Treating her like the age she's acting,” Adam replied. “About four, I think.”

Buffy laughed. “Put her on. It's important.”

Dawn glared at him as he handed her the phone. “Yeah?”

“Dawn? Someone here who wants to talk to you. And it isn't his fault, okay? I think it was Andrew, and Wolfram and Hart.”

Dawn wondered what that was about. “Dawn?”

“Daddy?”

Adam quietly left with the soup that was left. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 14**

“So, I can see that your management style has everything completely under control,” Xander said.

Angel glared at him.

“And such company loyalty,” Xander continued.

Angel glared at him some more. 

“I mean, the most important scientist in your organisation until Fred took over, able to access all your stuff, actually served one of your Senior Partners greatest enemies,” Xander shook his head. “That’s just awesome planning and security.”

“Andrew,” Angel said. 

“Yeah,” Xander leaned back. “We’ve been wondering about that.” 

“About Andrew and how he was able to betray you so utterly?” Angel rubbed it in a little more.

“Yeah. We think he had help. And as a matter of fact, Willow found a few little things in Andrew’s bank account, that she backtracked through six or seven offshore bank accounts in various countries with more banks than people and guess where it ended up coming from? And guess who signed the authorisation to pay Andrew a boat load of money?”

Angel knew this was going to be bad. Xander was far too gleeful under his seriousness.

“A corporate account of Wolfram and Hart’s, and the order was signed by the CEO of the LA branch himself,” Xander shook his head. “Sounds like you’ve got even more problems. I’m sure Buffy is going to be very impressed.”

Angel returned to glaring. 

Xander smiled. “Good, good. If you keep practising, I’m sure you’ll get to be as good at that as you are at poofing your hair and brooding.”

**************************************************************

Methos was watching the guards move the Sarcophagus. He’d made sure to bring rollers to put the bloody thing on, as well as poles to keep it rolling without having to touch it. Even if the marks he’d placed on Knox had removed whatever wakefulness moving Illyria had caused to recede and the danger of infection to be practically nil. The guards had the protection extended to them by Drogyn the Battlebrand. But he would not take any unnecessary risk.

They arrived at the empty niche that had held the sarcophagus, the Ways leading them there unerringly. Drogyn was waiting. 

He watched as Drogyn himself placed the final locking gem and straightened. “I thank you, as does the universe.”

“The universe tends to be silent about it,” Adam smiled, letting Methos flow away, letting the need to be ancient and implacable run away into the rocks.

“Come, have a drink with me, to celebrate. And maybe you can give me your opinion on some strange things that have been happening.”

“You think I am an expert on strange things?” Adam shook his head. “It’s all the fault of those darn kids.”

Drogyn grinned.

**************************************************************

Xander sat down at the table. Willow was tapping away at her laptop. “So, how's the search going?”

“Searchy,” Willow replied. “You're not looking as happy as I expected, what with the Angel-baiting.”

Xander sighed. “I had just gotten into my stride, smack talking him about how his employee was his employers' worst enemy's servant, and wham, he hit me with Andrew. We need to beef up our security, so next time I get to totally and legitimately bait him in peace.”

“Yeah. I can imagine that was a total downer for you,” Willow nodded in commiseration.

“So how goes the Andrew hunt?”

“I don't think it's just Andrew and Amy. Amy isn't as good as me at magic and Andrew isn't as good at me at computers, and together they shouldn't be able to come up with stuff that stops me.”

“Is that your pride, or reality,” Xander asked gently.

“Total reality,” Willow shook her head. “I've tracked the money and stuff, but I can't find them. Someone is interfering.”

“Totally sucks that they got away,” Xander scowled.

“Yeah, but catching up with them, well, I'm not sure they'd have surrendered and we might have killed them and we still wouldn't have known anything more,” Willow pointed out.

“So, how do you think he did it?” Xander asked.

“Simply put, we thought he'd become a good guy and didn't look hard enough,” Willow sighed. “We thought because we are the good guys, bad guys couldn't be among us. I mean, we got Spike on our side, and Anya, and even Cordelia-”

“I heard that, Rosenberg!” Cordelia called from the couch she's insisted on lying on rather than the bed upstairs or the one at Wolfram and Hart Angel had offered.

Willow grinned. “We didn't think anyone who was in Sunnydale when it fell would ever betray us. Just because we're the good guys doesn't mean there can't be bad guys among us.”

“And just because Wolfram and Hart are bad guys, that doesn't mean there aren't any good guys in there?” Xander asked.

“Not if we get them out quickly enough,” Willow said. “Fred totally isn't evil. Gunn probably isn't either...” she let her voice trail off.

“I heard that too, Rosenberg!” Cordelia yelled. “And I wasn’t ‘in’ Evil Guys Inc. in the first place. Coma, remember?”

Willow grinned. “So, we got complacent. Not gonna happen again. Next time you can totally lord it over him.”

“I thought you liked him,” Cordelia had risen from her couch, blankets draped around herself.

“That was before he had a Wiley E. Coyote moment and joined Wolfram and Hart,” Willow said. “And took Fred and the others with him. And we know he didn't ask us first, about Connor, or even told us you were so ill, until we asked.”

“Even Wesley?” Cordelia asked. “He tried to feed you to Faith.”

“Better inside pissing out,” Xander replied. “Look at the damage that Sirk guy did, just by denying the Council stuff.”

“Point,” Cordelia agreed. “So, when are you gonna clear me for going to W&H and yelling at them?”

“Not in a while yet,” Willow said. “You're nowhere near healthy. Now get back into bed, missy. Well, couch.”

“Or what, you'll spank me?” Cordelia snarked.

“You're as weak as a kitten, I'm sure I could manage,” Willow smiled. 

“Can I watch?” Xander asked, hopefully.

“Ow!”

“We should've synched up headslaps long ago, Willow,” Cordelia said as she went back to her couch. “He might even have learned something.”

*************************************************************

Angel had ungraciously given in, allowing Willow to join Fred in searching the company computers. Protests by the security department had been quieted by pointing out that they had let a traitor of the worst kind inside. And maybe they could swing Willow. After all, she’d gone very dark once before out of love. Stranger things had happened.

And she’d already tracked company funds through all the twists and turns that had been set up, right to his desk. Even if no court of law would accept it.

The Slayers considered it an attack on themselves, so they were willing to go to war over it. Appeasing them now might allow the stalemate to continue a while longer. 

Security had given in. Watching Buffy Summers take apart the most hardened security teams they had, well, there was little enthusiasm for facing her.

The Senior Partners were even more silent than usual.

So Fred was deep inside the computers, with Willow beside her.

Buffy had looked in for a bit, pursed her lips at the looks the two kept sneaking at the other when they thought they weren’t watching and had left to go back to her father’s house.

“Huh,” Willow said. “That’s odd.”

“What is?” Fred asked. 

“This isn’t the symbol of the Northern Guardian,” Willow pointed at a photo of the bloody mark. 

Fred looked over her shoulder, breathing in her scent surreptitiously. “It looks like it.”

“It’s got the general look of it, but each Guardian has its own mark. The Southern one has been the same for about three thousand years, the Northern one has changed a couple of times as the Guardian got killed by invaders or quit,” Willow was leafing through a Source book.

“I thought we were gonna chase down whoever paid Andrew?” Fred frowned. 

Willow waved a hand. “I think it’s a person called Eve, and apparently she’s in contact with some guy called Lindsey. Excellent magical protection, lousy tech. So since someone took some of the books that should be ours, I decided to have a look at them.”

Fred sighed. “I’d give them back, but there’s lots of people who’ll try to prevent it.”

Willow smiled grimly. “We’ll see. But anyway, Sturluson’s _Runic Symbology_ gives the signs of the previous Guardians he knew about. This one was carved at the end of something called a Dreamway near Eyjafjallajökull volcano-”

“Gesundheit,” Fred grinned. 

Willow smiled at her. “Anyway, this is old. Really, really old. This is the mark of the Guardian who was, like the Guardian thousands of years ago.”

Fred whistled. “And he’s still around?”

“Probably not. The symbol has power in itself,” Willow tilted her head as she took in the curves and angles of the rune. “And he was the Guardian for a very long time, so it has extra.”

“You know, with our luck, he’s out there and very annoyed,” Fred whispered.

Willow groaned. “That wasn’t something I wanted to think about!”

“Sorry,” Fred said. “What do you want to think about?”

Willow smiled up at her.

Fred flushed and went back to her computer.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 15**

Adam looked at the stones, each pale cabochon cut gem glowing with some inner light. They varied in size from the size of his fist to a pigeon's egg. They were decorating an empty sarcophagus, one that belonged to Tasnos, who had been torn apart by his opponents long before the Deeper Well had become mausoleum and prison to the God-Kings. They had not been there before, Drogyn was sure. Or at least, not as many.

The coffin had appeared nevertheless, once the Well was opened. There were a lot of things they didn't know about the Well and the Dreamways. This was one of the mysteries, and it had just gotten stranger. 

He tilted his head, rubbing his chin. “So they just appear?” 

“Just like that,” Drogyn agreed. “Neither rhyme nor reason to it, completely irregular. I'd feel a lot better if I knew what was happening.”

Adam nodded. “I think we can all agree on that.”

“Got any ideas?” Drogyn asked. “There wasn't anything in the Librum.”

“I don't think counting the gems on the sarcophagi ever occurred to any of the earlier Guardians,” Adam grinned. “Even I was never that bored.”

“I didn't. There was flash of light and then I realised that it had them, and before it had less,” Drogyn shrugged. “Can you ask around? Discreetly?”

“I can and I will,” Adam agreed. “It might be a God-King, wandering the Earth, waiting to return to life, with each gem signalling an increase in power.”

“That is not a very pleasant idea. Why don't you ever have nice ones?”

Adam nodded absently. “Very unpleasant. It comes from experience.”

**************************************************************

_Los Angeles_

Buffy was in her old room. So was Mary. There were plenty of bedrooms for all of them, should they all be at home at the same time. She was pretty sure she was going to be. 

She was also pretty sure that she wanted the head of some guy called Lindsey, who had been in charge of Project Enigma, which Angel had found out dealt with keeping the Slayer unbalanced. 

Apparently he was pretty clever. He was on the run from Wolfram and Hart. He might even be part of the Isis crowd. She still didn't have a handle on who was leading that.

It was all too complex and well, if it was just Andrew, she'd eat her shoes. Well, an old pair. No reason to waste a good pair of shoes. 

“I want to be a Girl scout, too!” Mary declared. 

Buffy's scout uniform had still been there, in a box. She hadn't tried it on yet. It probably no longer fit. 

“What's that?” Mary pointed.

“A boot tree.” Buffy said. “To keep them in shape.”

“And that?” Mary pointed at a fake hand she'd had to keep rings on. 

“A fake hand to keep rings and stuff on.”

“And that?” 

“A shoe tree.”

Buffy was starting to understand why Willow had been so eager to volunteer to dive into the Wolfram and Hart computers, even if she was going to do it with Fred. Mary was worse than Dawn. Worse than she imagined Willow to have been.

Xander had once mentioned the 'Endless Questions of Doom. DOOM I Tell You!' That didn't sound very hopeful.

Her dad was on the phone to Dawn. Something had been done to him, to make him disbelieve the calls her sister had made. Someone was going to die for that. Several times, very slowly, if she had anything to do with it.

Willow was looking into that, too. As was Adam, back in Rome, though Adam had seemed distracted when she'd talked to him.

She didn't like it when Adam was distracted when he was talking to her. It probably meant all sorts of bad things were going to happen. Also wasn't she worth paying attention to? She totally was. Cordelia had said she was sure the scout uniform would still fit because 'she was still a total midget'. The Senior Slayer in a Scouting uniform would draw Adam's attention, wouldn't it? It would be strange and he was interested in strange things.

“Do shoes grow on shoetrees?” Mary asked.

“If only,” Buffy muttered. “No, you have to buy them. And the shoetrees too, and then you have to use the shoe trees to keep your shoes in good shape.”

She looked down at Mary. Six wasn't too early to start learning about the really important things in life, right? “Wanna go shoe shopping?”

Mary looked doubtful. “Is that near the bookstore?”

Buffy smiled painfully. “Probably. But I think I'll let Auntie Willow take you there.”

“'Kay! What's that?”

It was going to be a long day.

************************************************************

“Okay, it was, like, started by Holland Manners and was called Operation Lonely Hearts Club Band,” Willow began.

“Seriously?” Buffy asked. “Lonely Hearts Club Band?”

“Aren't you supposed to pick a name that doesn't give away what you're doing?” Xander added.

“Or, like, pick a better record?” Buffy said.

“I didn't think it up,” Willow said. “But Fred said Angel doesn't really understand things like that either. It may be something demonic. His top secret plan for the moment is called 'Operation Get Lindsey'.”

“That doesn't surprise me,” Xander muttered. “Okay, and when Angel took over, he didn't say that they had to stop doing stuff that hurt the Slayer?”

Willow shook her head. “Nope. Totally didn't. Probably didn't think that there would be much, with Sunnydale down and no Slayer assigned to LA.”

“What an ally,” Xander said sarcastically.

“Also, the higher ups left orders to keep it running even if he did, only to transfer it to another office,” Willow said.

“Okay. Who was behind it?” Buffy looked deceptively mild. That probably meant that whoever had done it was going to die a painful death.

“A totally nasty sleazy evil poophead called Cyvus Vail. He's been around for ages and loves to hurt people,” Willow sniffed. “He did the spell that was supposed to make Connor forget and people forget him, the nasty, mean poopy head that he is.”

Xander and Buffy looked at her.

Willow cringed. “I still feel really bad and guilty about that, okay? It's a bad thing.”

“Yeah. And how did you find out about that, anyway?” Buffy asked. “You never said.”

“When Anya did her wish thing on Cordelia and my evil vampire me showed up, and then after Dawnie showed up, I wanted to make sure I was able to find out, so I made a couple of things that warn me of what has changed,” Willow said. “It gave a blip on the Connor thing, since he's, you know, only a one-shot deal thing prophecy wise.”

“And we have more important things to do,” Buffy agreed. “Sucks to be him, though. Or to have been him. You know, I like, totally hate alternate realities and time travel and stuff!”

“Totally!” Willow agreed. 

“So anyway, this Chipped Veal guy, he's bad news?” Buffy continued. 

“Yeah, like I said, he's as old or older than the Mayor, and a powerful sorcerer and really mean and he needs blood and other stuff from humans every day to keep alive, not just to eat and drink, though he does that too, but in like, transfusions and stuff. Also he's a member of the Circle of the Black Thorn.”

“Right, those are the über evil guys who want to pretend they're as bad as the Bilderberg Conference guys,” Xander said wisely. “They killed Kennedy and staged the moon landings, you know.”

Willow and Buffy looked at him. 

“What? I picked up Andrew's 'Conspiracy Theory Monthly' while we were going through his stuff for clues,” he said defensively.

“Probably gave you instant evil stupid,” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Or have you bought shares in a tinfoil factory?”

“Or the 'Yucky Princess Leia action figure modding' fever,” Willow added darkly. “No wonder he was friends with Warren, he probably wanted him to build a Leia bot.”

“Ew,” Buffy said. “That reminds me, what happened to the Buffy bot and the bits of Ted and other stuff you had? Bottom of Sunnydale bay?”

“Well, unless someone took them, yeah,” Willow frowned. “Great. Now I need to look into that,” she made a note. 

“Okay, Andrew the Treacherous Yuck and robots aside, this Syruppy Fake sounds like just the sort of guy we want to make sure doesn't bother us again,” Buffy's eyes narrowed. “As soon as possible.”

“Yeah. But we'll need to plan. Because he's like totally been plotting, since like, he's as old as the Mayor, at least,” Willow warned. “Running in there with the Scythe and fireballs is gonna get us killed. He's totally gonna have defences up that are totally gonna be of the very bad and nasty.”

“What about luring him on top of a bomb?” Xander asked.

“I don't think Vail has anyone he even likes, let alone cares enough about to risk a chipped fingernail,” Willow shook her head. “So if we lure him anywhere, he won't be out of his mind with grief and anger, but expecting a trap.”

“Okay, we get Riley to drop a bomb on him,” Xander said.

“That might work, if Riley had access to big enough bombs that wouldn't blow up half of LA taking him out,” Willow said after a thoughtful look from Buffy. “I wouldn't be surprised if he had protection against things like that, though.”

“Stupid smart bad guys,” Xander muttered. “Well, back to Rome and think up a Scoobie plan?”

Willow suddenly looked very unhappy. Buffy didn't look very happy either.

“We can see if Fred and your Dad and Anne and the Mini-Willow and the Mini-Buffy and the Mini-Dawn want to come along,” Xander suggested. “But I didn't pack for a long stay.” 

“And we're kinda needed back there,” Willow agreed. “At least until we figure out everything Andrew messed with. And Fred can't come along because her contract doesn't allow it, even if it isn't a sell-your-soul one. And Cordy is staying here because she says she needs to yell at Angel, lots.”

“We really need that lawyer,” Buffy said.

“Yeah, we do,” Willow agreed mournfully.

***********************************************************

“Julie will stay here and make sure nothing comes and eats you,” Buffy said as Willow plumped Cordelia's pillow. “And we've got some doctors to come in and check on you, who aren't on W&H's payroll.”

“What if I wanna go home?” Cordelia complained.

“We think it's probably safer here, with the wards Willow set up,” Buffy shrugged. “Also Julie doesn't want to sleep on your couch, your spare bedroom is a work in progress to walk in cupboard, where she swears the shoes are looking at her, so you'd be alone.”

“No I wouldn't,” Cordelia muttered.

“Dennis doesn't count,” Willow said. 

“Who told you about Dennis?” Cordelia wanted to know.

“Fred and Lorne,” Willow told her. “Which reminds me,” she put a rather dented metal sugar bowl with a hinged lid on the bed.

“That's mine, I think,” Cordelia looked at it. “Why did you bring it here? I don't use sugar.”

The bowl lifted into the air. Cordelia smiled. “Dennis?” Then she scowled at Willow. “What did you do?”

“He wanted to see you and he didn't mind. I can put him back later,” Willow said. “And if someone steals him, he automatically heads back.”

“Your very own ghostie in the sugar bowl,” Buffy smirked.

“Dennis doesn't have infinite power,” Cordelia patted the sugar bowl. “But he's pretty darn good.”

****************************************************************

Fred tip-toed into the room. “I'm not asleep,” Cordelia said testily. “Also you look totally silly.”

Fred grinned. “Good to see you too, Cordy.”

Cordelia glared at her. “Really? Ready to get reamed for being dumb as rock and joining that idiot vampire at Wolfram and Hart? You're supposed to be the sensible one.”

Fred winced. “Things were going badly, and it was the best he could think of.”

“Yeah, this is the guy who thinks lurking in alleys is a way to impress girls and whose thoughts of revenge against a Slayer was to destroy the world, with him in it. Did any of that possibly indicate that in the planning business he might be ranked somewhere below Dimwit McBooby, when he decided to go on a panty raid in the land of the Emasculating Amazons?”

Fred giggled. “That never happened.”

“Would've, if Angel had lived then and there,” Cordelia sniffed. “So?”

“I didn't want to be alone,” Fred admitted. “All the others were going.”

“Right. Wesley, who always has brilliant ideas and executes them so well. Gunn, what did he get?”

“His head filled with the knowledge of a great lawyer and a bar exam,” Fred said. “Lorne's head of entertainment, but mostly because Caritas got wrecked.”

“Damn stupid vampire and his whiny, pouty pride,” Cordelia grumbled. 

“What?”

“I'd have called Buffy,” Cordelia declared. “Even if she didn't have money, she had contacts. But Mr. Hair above all else didn't want to call his ex and tell her he'd screwed up, again. Of course the whole thing with Darla and not telling Buffy is probably going to end any chance he ever had of getting into her panties again. Spike, more chance, but from what I hear he blew it by not telling her he was even a bit back. Why would she think less of him anyway? She came back from her heroic sacrifice and she sure as heck didn't plan that.”

“We missed you, Cordy,” Fred said. “You kinda cut through the bull.”

“Famous for it,” Cordelia agreed. “So, what sort of contract did you sign? Your soul? Your body? Your first born taco?”

Fred put a hand to her chest. “I'd never sell my darling Taco!” she giggled. “Actually, I don't think it would be that bad if I could get the others to agree to leave with me. But Wesley feels guilty about Connor and Angel feels guilty about hurting Wesley and Gunn thinks he can become everything his mother and grandmother believed him to be capable of.”

“A crooked lawyer? They're really gonna be whooping that up,” Cordelia shook her head. “And your parents? What do they think about Fred the Evil Mastermind?” 

“I'm not evil!” Fred insisted.

“Not yet,” Cordelia said. “Sure that they're working on it. Or making you the vessel of some Bigger than usual really bad Bad.”

Fred shivered. “I really don't like thinking about that.”

'Well, demon worshipping assholes are part of the stock in trade of W&H, together with necromancers, cannibals, murderers, body-snatchers and vampires.” Cordelia said. “I don't know what else you thought might happen? Happy marriage? Lovely children sold into eternal safety?”

Fred wrung her hands. “Yeah, that's about what Buffy and Willow said.”

“Yeah, if I'd been around, I'd have kicked Angel's butt for even suggesting it.”

“One of the main reasons he did it was because of you,” Fred said. “You and Connor.”

“Yeah, I really wanted to die in the bosom of W&H so that they could more easily steal my soul,” Cordelia snorted.

Fred sniffled. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Cordelia told her. “You got bamboozled by Angel and his 'keeping the band together' speech, I'm sure. Him, I blame. He should know better than to let his pride stand in the way of what needs to be done.”

“So you think it was easier for him to sign up with W&H than to go to Buffy?”

“For Angel? He wants to show how great he is. That does not include calling for help unless he has no choice.”

“He called for help for Dana,” Fred said.

“Oh yeah. The insane Slay girl,” Cordelia crossed her arms. “Care to think what Buffy and the others would have done to him if he'd taken her into Wolfram and Hart? That was totally self-preservation. And Andrew may have been a total treacherous dweeb-o-tron, that didn't mean that they wouldn't have helped before he signed over his frigging soul and yours to W&H.”

There was a slight noise from outside. Fred looked up. “What was that?”

“That was Angel leaving,” Cordelia said acidly. “So, now we're gonna work on two things, getting you some clothes to catch yourself a red-headed witch-”

Fred let out a 'meep'.

“And to get you free from W&H so you can enjoy each other.”

Fred lout out another 'meep.'

Then she shook herself. “Why didn't you call Angel in and yell at him?” 

“Because then he'd have gotten all self-righteous and huffy and defensive and saying I was addled or something, before I'd even gotten half way through. This way he's gonna take it all home and actually think about it. Well, brood.”

“So this might work at convincing him?” Fred sounded dubious.

“Thinking, he ain't so good at. Brooding? No one better,” Cordelia shook her head. 

There was a startled scream. Then another and some curses.

Fred rose, alarmed. “What's that? Something is attacking Angel!”

“It's only Dennis. He wasn't amused about the W&H thing either,” Cordelia grinned. “Don't worry. I told him not to hurt him too badly. So. What shall we buy on your company credit card to entice a witch with?”

There was a blood-curdling scream. “That doesn't sound like he isn't hurting him!” Fred rose and ran to the door. She stood on the landing and came back, biting her lip.

“Lots of blood?” Cordelia asked, looking slightly worried, but also a bit vindictive. 

Fred shook her head. “Wedgie.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 16**

_Rome_

Dawn was annoyed with her, which was nothing new. “So, why the long face? You really couldn't have flown or teleported with a concussion,” Buffy said. “And you got to talk to Dad. They're coming by once you're healed up, so another reason to listen to the doctors and not over-do things.”

Dawn pouted. “You totally should've told off Adam.”

Buffy grinned. “I know. He should've made you wear one of those bib things. Maybe with a teddy bear on it. And taken lots and lots of pictures.”

“Buffy!” Dawn whined.

“You weren't supposed to read, and then you spilled stuff on the things you weren't supposed to read,” Buffy said. “You're lucky he didn't just spank you.”

“It's not me he wants to spank,” Dawn muttered.

“Well, you're a book girl,” Buffy said. “He likes poetry. Maybe you'll get lucky.”  
  
She looked as if she'd bitten into a lemon as she said it.

“Su-re,” Dawn rolled her eyes. “That's sooo gonna happen.”

**********************************************************

Buffy found herself once more at Adam’s door. Dawn was still mostly restricted to bed, but Willow and Xander had taken over the Dawn watch. Or at least, Willow had the Dawn and Xander watch as both were recovering.

It was great to catch up, but Xander still tired easily. Which wasn't surprising considering the wounds he'd taken in Africa and hadn't allowed to heal properly.

But both had been very enthusiastic about her going to Adam. They probably wanted some time to catch up on pre-Buffy, bad stuff happened, Yellow Crayon days.

She knew that he didn’t keep it locked when he was home, and also knew she could just go in, but that would be rude. They didn’t know each other that well, yet. She absently patted her hair as she rang the bell. The door was opened quickly. She could smell oil and Adam’s fingertips were covered with them. He’d used a rag to open the door and stepped back. 

Buffy followed, curious to see what he was using weapon oil for. It was a sword, laying on the table on a newspaper.

Adam sat down and continued oiling it.

“That's a nice sword. What they call an Ivanhoe, right?” Buffy said. “Is it real?”

“Family heirloom,” Adam shrugged. “Back in the day it was just a sword, or knight's sword. I suppose it's better than the horsewhip for beating recalcitrant uppity peasants or the scalps of the American Revolutionary Soldiers.” 

“You totally do not have things like that,” Buffy laughed.

Adam quirked a brow at her. 

Buffy crossed her arms and tilted her head. “You totally don't.”

“Well, not the scalps,” Adam smirked. “At least, I don't have them here. There's a few shrunken heads some missionary doctor brought back from trying to convert the Papuans in the cupboard though.”

“You have gross ancestors,” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “So what's the story behind that?”

“It's twelfth century. It's supposed to be the sword of a Saxon knight who served Richard the so –called Lionheart in the Holy Land during his crusades, and was a noble and brave man. There was some vague romantic crap involved.”

“Sounds pretty cool. What was his name?”

“Ivanhoe.” 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”

Adam carefully wiped his hands and cleaned them at the sink, then went over and rummaged through his bookcase and came back with a large, fat one which he put on the coffee table. He flipped through it until he came to the one he'd obviously been searching for. “You do read Latin, right?”

Buffy wrinkled her nose at him. “Not unless I have to. Can't I call Willow?”

“I think Willow might be a bit busy trying to track down Andrew and Amy and whoever their masters might be,” Adam said. “She was rather upset with them.” 

“So am I,” Buffy said darkly. “So's everybody.”

But calling Willow would interfere with Yellow Crayon time. She could do this.

She looked at the book. It was filled with the sort of hand-written letters she'd gotten far too used to over the past few years. “This is all cramped and Latin-y,” she pouted at Adam hopefully. He had an awesome voice when he translated. Well, he had an awesome voice, period. And when he commanded, it felt like he’d done it for ages and ages. It sent a shiver down her back. She loved listening to him, but that command voice made her a little bit shiver-y.

“Yes, we'd covered that before,” Adam admitted cheerfully. “There's contractions too, look. I'm sure you know what this one means.”

The pout turned into a half glare. “You know what it means better. Just read it to me.”

“It's important to keep your hand in, never know when you may need it when no-one else is around,” he smiled at her.

“You’re here now,” Buffy crossed her arms, under her chest, unconsciously pushing up her breasts.

“And I'm the one trying to possibly sell you what Joe would call a load of Minotaur,” Adam pointed out, after a disappointing mere glance at her chest. “Which proves my previous point.”

“Don't wanna,” Buffy returned to pouting. “You could do it so much better, and faster.”

“You could always call Rupert,” Adam pointed out. “I'm sure he'd be delighted to help.”

With a final glare Buffy drew the book, with the due care owed to its age, towards her and bent her head over it. 

She mouthed the words and occasionally had to run through declensions and declinations. Finally she reached the end and sat back. “A charter from Richard I to Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe, confirming him in all his father's ancient rights for his services to the Crown during and after the Crusade to the Holy Land. Huh. Do historians know about this? And is it really real?”

Adam laughed. “I am a historian. And yes, it's a fourteenth century cartulary. The original is somewhere in Britain, with a third cousin six times removed.”

“But nobody has published it?” Buffy pressed.

“The great majority of English documents have not been published,” Adam told her. “Even old ones like this. Especially not when the family that owns them is a bit secretive.”

“But the Ivanhoes...” Buffy asked. “Why don't they have this then?”

“They died out. Wilfred of Ivanhoe had no children and the line died with him and his lands reverted to the crown and only chance meant that my ancestor was nearby to take some of these things,” Adam rose and put the book back. “The copy was made at our own family estate, in hopes it might bring in some more lands in a court case, but it didn't. Then it was stored with the rest of the mouldering archives, including the original of this.”

“Why do you have it here then?” Buffy frowned.

“There's some references in it to ghosts along the Borders and how they were defeated and I wanted to copy one charter for our records that deals with the gift of land to a family member, who was a 'companion to the Lady Defender, so lately come to grief',” Adam shrugged. “Not like the cousin has any idea what's in his records anyway. He spends most of his time profligately spending money, drinking and sowing oats.”

“Hmmm,” Buffy sent him a look. “That sounds familiar...”

Adam put a hand on his chest. “I do not profligately spend money.”

“Because you have none?” Buffy asked.

Adam just grinned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ **Ivanhoe** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ivanhoe_\(1958_TV_series\)) **, of course.** [ **Ivanhoe!** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VEvz-4dbQjE)


	17. Chapter 17

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.  
**

**Chapter 17**

_Deeper Well_

Methos looked at the empty sarcophagus with the gems and the skull in his hand. The skull had been damaged. Someone had chopped at the back of the neck with an axe and through the lower jaw and into the upper one. 

He put the skull down and pulled on a pair of long rubber work-gloves and a welder's mask with very dark glass. 

“What do you think will happen?” Drogyn asked.

“I have some thoughts about what might happen to the skull. I have some fears about what might happen to me,” Methos said. “So it pays to be prepared.”

Then he grabbed a pair of long handled fireplace thongs, with rubber padded along the grip, held it out over the coffin and then touched it to a large, white gem. There were larger ones, but not that many.

There was a flash of light. Drogyn cursed and Methos smiled behind his mask. 

The weight of the skull disappeared and there was a thud and a soft 'ow.'

Methos pulled off the mask. A very naked Immortal was looking up at him. “You. What did you do?”

“I played a hunch, Darius,” Adam smiled. “Why don't we get some clothes on you and you can go back to playing nanny to Boyscout McLeod.”

“A lovely prospect, no doubt,” Darius looked around. “This looks like the Deeper Well. How I heard it described anyway.”

“You know about it? Good. That will make explaining all this a lot easier,” Adam shook his head. “Though you won't like it. I don't.”

“Denying the existence of unpleasant things doesn't make them go away,” Darius agreed.

“Well... I've found that if you go far enough away and wait long enough, often they do,” Adam shrugged. “This one won't.”

“The Lord only knows what you've been teaching McLeod,” Darius muttered.

“Nothing, the boy won't listen until he's chin-deep in trouble,” Methos replied. “And then he takes it the wrong way.”

“Now that sounds vaguely familiar,” Darius smiled.

************************************************************

“So, you're working with the Slayer, and you don't want the Slayer to know what and who you are,” Darius said once Methos had done explaining the general situation. 

“For now,” Methos pointed out.

“That's not going to make her happy, if what you tell me of her personality is true,” Darius said. “On your head be it.”

“As long as I keep it, I come out ahead,” Methos grinned.

Darius glared. “That was a dreadful pun.”

“Get used to it. Also California speak. They, like, totally, use it all the time,” Methos smiled. “So, the other thing?”

Darius steepled his fingers. “If they can help me back into society, I'll gladly help them with their legal problem. It's been a while since I crossed swords, so to speak, with the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart.”

“And afterwards you can help Sean Burns untwist their knotted little psyches,” Methos said. “He'll need all the help he can get.”

“Why don't you help him?” Darius asked. Then he shook his head. “Of course. Conflict of interest.”

“You also can't tell McLeod I'm involved with the Slayers,” Methos ignored him. “He has a tendency to, well... Overreact to the things I've done and seen.”

“Maybe I should tell him about the first few hundred years of my life again,” Darius said. “Or maybe you should show a little more remorse.”

“I've lived several times his lifetime since then,” Methos said. “And he's gone from a raging, thieving, illiterate, pillaging border reiver into a somewhat cultured lump. He might give me credit I might have changed too.”

“Are you going to bring back your Brothers?” 

“Not unless I can bring them back sane,” Methos replied.

“So how are you going to introduce me back to the land of the living? Or to be more exact, the Council of Slayers?”

“I'm going to use the Junior Council to Vouch for you,” Methos grinned. 

***************************************************************

Joe took a deep breath and knocked on Methos' door. He had news the Old Man would not like to hear.

“It's open!” came the cheery tones that Joe associated with Adam Pierson.

He went in. Adam was in the kitchen, but the shower was running. He really hoped that Buffy Summers wasn't going to come out, dressed only in towels. Okay, the dirty old man part of him did, a little, because she was beautiful, but she was also young enough to be his granddaughter. And he felt responsible for letting Adam get away with hurting her.

If Methos didn't tell her soon, he was going to have to.

Joe went into the kitchen. “Smells good.”

“Thanks. I have a guest who needs some feeding up.”

Joe suppressed a wince. That was something he'd thought about Buffy Summers quite often. 

“You're welcome to stay and have a bite,” Adam smiled. “So, what brings you here? You look like someone set fire to the McLeod chronicle.”

Joe took a deep breath and then the plunge. “Someone vandalised Darius' grave. They took his skull.”

“Ah,” Adam nodded. “I see.”

“He knows,” A deep voice said. “Mr. Dawson. We meet without masks at last.”

Joe turned as fast as he could, his eyes bulging. Darius was drying his hair. He was wearing a bathrobe.

“How?” he whispered.

Adam's eyes changed to that deeper, more intense grey that meant too many thoughts and memories were in his head. “I found out certain things. Which led me to perform an experiment.”

“Want to see the stitches?” Darius asked. “The bolt took some getting used to.”

Joe glared at Methos. The eyes were light again and he was laughing. “I've missed your wicked sense of humour, Darius.”

He turned to Joe. “If I ever tell anyone, you're on the list, Joe. But it’s dangerous, dangerous knowledge.”

Joe nodded. “Okay. I'll accept that. But what are you gonna do with him?” 

Darius smiled. “We were hoping that you'd vouch that I am Darius. I understand from Adam that the reformed Senior Council will take it from there. Apparently they need a lawyer.”

***********************************************************

Duncan was teaching swordsmanship to several of the younger Slayers. After that would come martial arts. 

They were much, much stronger than Immortals, but Buffy had assured him that the basics were very helpful. As was being able to heal fast and fully from the sort of blow an overenthusiastic junior Slayer might accidentally land.

Even if the whole notion of chivalry seemed to have passed them by. Of course they weren't just fighting for themselves, but to protect innocent people. Methos might be a better teacher for them, but he had no idea where to find him. 

Joe did, probably, but Joe had told him to first get his head out of his ass. Very firmly. Richie had said the same, after the Ahriman thing. Almost getting his head cut off had caused the younger Immortal to be rather short with him.

That's when he felt the approach of another Immortal. A strong one. For a hopeful second he wondered if Methos had decided to show up on his own accord.

“And this is the training room,” Buffy said. “And look, there he is.” 

Duncan gaped at the tall, saturnine man who came in. He wore a cassock of rough black wool, tied around his waist, and sandals on his bare feet. “Darius? How?”

Darius moved over and pulled him into a hug. He felt and smelt like Darius. “A bit of a miracle. I'm not entirely sure of the mechanics myself. Suffice it to say that someone found a way to unite my Quickening with my body. I'm not sure it's possible with people whose Quickening was taken by another Immortal. Those better suited to that kind of thing can deal with that.”

Duncan nodded. Right now what was important was that Darius was here, and alive. “How did you get here?”

“I was dropped off,” Darius shrugged. “Joe Dawson said I seemed to be who I said I was and Miss Rosenberg did some truth spells, though they may not be as accurate with old Immortals as she might think.”

Duncan saw Buffy take note of that remark. That was probably the reason he’d made it.

“At any rate, they need someone to take on Wolfram and Hart and until I can get back into Saint Julien I have nothing to do, and anyway, I need a job. Most of my easily accessible wealth got distributed to the poor after I died.”

“Apparently Darius is a real hot-shot lawyer guy,” Buffy looked him up and down. “Which is to me means more suits and less, you know, sandals, but hey.”

Darius just smiled.

***************************************************************

“They're sending some canon lawyer to deal with the contract situation,” Lindsey shook his head. “They'll eat him raw.”

“The Roman Catholic church has a very long history of litigation,” Eve frowned. “And they're not nice about it. He might not be a pushover, especially not if he has real faith.”

“A lawyer with faith? A lawyer who's also a priest? No chance,” Lindsey scoffed. “They're all in it for the money or the power or the pretty little boys in dresses.”

Eve shook her head. “What do you know about him?”

“His name, very little else. Darius St Julien,” Lindsey said. “Apparently he's French.”

“Darius? I thought he was dead,” Eve had gone pale and started to pace. “This is not good. Not good at all.”

“You're acting like he is a threat,” Lindsey said. “What's he done?”

“He's an Immortal,” Eve replied. “He was once the greatest general in the world, ready to conquer the Roman Empire after he helped orchestrate its fall. He's patient, careful, very intelligent and utterly ruthless. He's the one who cost us Gilles de Rais. And he's gotten better since then.”

Lindsey swallowed. “Oh. Crap.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 18**

“So Darius went to LA to deal with Wolfram and Hart and Dad and Anne are coming over next month,” Buffy said. “So you'd better be better, because the kids are gonna wear you down.”

“It'll be nice not to be the youngest,” Dawn declared. 

“And the shrink that Adam got Joe to find is here. He's talking to Xander,” Buffy added. 

“Xander?” Dawn frowned. “Why him first?”

“Because Anya, and other things,” Buffy took her sister's hand. “Then he wants to talk to you.”

“You told him?” Dawn drew her hand away and crossed her arms.

“No. I got told by Adam. Adam told Sean. Sean is worried,” Buffy admitted. “And so am I. Since I've got new sisters, you'll think that you're redundant.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I realised I was being dumb-”

“If only,” Buffy said. 

Dawn poked her. “You know what I mean. So, what about this Darius guy?”

“He was dead. He's alive again. He wants to talk to me too, once he's back from saving Angel's gang in LA,” Buffy let out a breath. “Duncan said he's like, a saint. So he may have been where I was, you know. He may want to ask me how I dealt with it.”

Dawn bit her lip. “I'm still sorry that I was so happy you were back. Or that I was such a wuss while you were gone.”

“Willow was on her magic high and she was worried I was in hell,” Buffy shook her head. “I don't blame you for that.”

“What do you blame me for?” Dawn asked in a tiny voice.

“Well, for one you took my red sweater and totally got pesto on it,” Buffy scowled.

Dawn cringed. “Ah. Sorry.”

“You're right being sorry. For that you'll be the one taking Mary on her first walk around the city. Sweet, sweet revenge.”

***************************************************************

“Angel? There's a priest down in the lobby, he's here to see you,” Harmony's voice came from the intercom.

“A priest? Here?” Angel asked incredulously. “What's security say?”

“He said that his name was Darius St Julien and the chief sort of whimpered and went to hide in the broom closet,” Harmony said. “Do I tell them to let him up or what?”

“What does he want?” 

“Apparently he’s also some lawyer, sent by Buffy,” Harmony replied. 

“Do we have footage?” Angel asked.

“Just a sec,” Harmony was heard to mutter to herself. “No, not that button, no, not that one either,” and finally a screen in Angel's room showed a tall man in a cassock.

Angel gulped. “Oh crap.”

“Know him?”

“He was the priest at the convent where I got Dru,” Angel said. “He came after us.”

“Oh, that guy,” Spike whistled as he turned away from the drinks cabinet. “Dru mentioned him, called him the Angel of Vengeance. Wow. Seems like they managed to pull a big one in after all.”

“Ask the gentleman to come up, Harmony. Full courtesies,” Angel finally said.

“So. Think he's gonna forgive you for what you did to Dru?” Spike asked. “Or repeatedly gut you like a trout and sow you up again, so he can keep doing it while you regrow your vamp tackle enough for him to cut it off again? I think Dru said that was what he was planning to do?”

“Shut up, Spike,” Angel muttered.

“Well, he's had a few hundred years to think about it, I'm sure he's figured out something even more impressive,” Spike said. 

Darius swept into the room. He stopped a few feet away from the big desk. Spike was leaning against it. Angel was behind it, and looked as if he wanted to hide underneath.

“Where is Drusilla?” Darius asked.

“We're not sure,” Angel admitted.

“Find her,” Darius said. “Or you will wish that you never ever, existed.” 

Angel reached out and pressed an intercom button. He was quite proud that his hand didn't shake. “Harmony? Tell Special to track down Drusilla.”

“Yes, Angel.”

“And send in some coffee. And tell Fred, Gunn, Lorne and Wesley to come up here, ASAP, and call and ask Cordelia as well.”

“Cordelia doesn't like coming here,” Harmony reminded him.

“I'm aware, call her anyway.”

Spike coughed. “Wouldn't it be wiser to go to the Hyperion? Red's wards are still up. I'm pretty sure that they're gonna try and listen in on us.”

Angel looked at Darius. 

“I doubt Wolfram and Hart is going to honour other lawyers' lawyer client privilege,” he said. “I would tend to agree with Mr Spike.”

“Know me then?” 

Darius smiled. “You may have been described to me.”

***********************************************************

“So is Adam paying attention to you again?” Willow asked. “You've been a little less grumpy.”

Buffy huffed. “I wasn't grumpy because Adam wasn't paying attention to me. We're just friends. And he's the most senior Watcher who isn't a total scuzzball.”

“He doesn't actually have all that much traditional Watcher training,” Willow noted. “But he does have all those ancient languages he used for the Methos Chronicles at his fingertips.”

“Yeah. And he's less likely to treat Slayers like disposable weapons,” Buffy agreed.

“I'm really disappointed in Giles,” Willow shook her head.

“I've been disappointed in him for years,” Buffy muttered. “You at least seem to have learned.”  
  
Willow winced. 

“Sorry,” Buffy touched Willow's arm. “That came out way harsher than I wanted to.”

“True, though. So, what does Sean talk to you about?” Willow asked. “I've been kinda spilling my guts about, well, everything. All the nasty stuff I did. He said that Tara was right, magic can be addictive, but not in the way she thought. It's being able to do amazing things. And the Hellmouth creeps inside of you with each thing.”

“The Sin of Pride,” Buffy nodded. “And the miasma of the Hellmouth. Yeah, he mentioned that. I've been telling him about my unhealthy obsession with Angel. And other stuff.”

“Hey, hey. If it isn't my favourite ladies,” Xander smiled and sat down. “Talking about Willow's plans for her next date with Fred?”

“No, we were talking about what we're talking to Sean about. Though the date thing sounds a lot more fun,” Buffy said. “When's the date and what're you gonna do?” 

“Xander!” Willow complained. “You weren't supposed to tell her! You're not even supposed to know about it!”

“Then you shouldn't leave a pile of notes about it where anyone can find them,” Xander pointed out. “Though the honey drizzle thing may be a bit much for a first date.”

“That's for on the Mexican taco,” Willow said. 

Buffy and Xander both looked sceptical. “Really! Honestly, it is!” Willow insisted.

“Uh-huh,” Buffy nodded. “Of course it is.”

Willow crossed her arms and huffed. “So, what does Sean want to talk to you about?”

“Mostly my inferiority complex, and my relationships,” Xander said. “Anya. Lots of things.”

“He said he thinks we'll be ready to have a session together pretty soon,” Buffy grimaced. “He may bring in Giles.”

“So what does Dawn talk about?” Xander asked.

“Well, she tried to talk only about Duncan,” Buffy smirked. “But Sean apparently won't tell her anything about the Immortal Boy Scout unless she talks about herself.”

“So have you talked to him about Adam?” Willow asked.

“There's nothing between me and Adam,” Buffy said. “There can't be.”

“Why not?” Xander asked. “He seems nice enough. “Maybe not enough bad in the boy for you, but he seems to be holding up in the quipping department.”

“He didn't join up to have a romantic relationship with me,” Buffy shook her head. “And I didn't let him to start one either.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Author’s note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 19**

“I got a hit on Andrew!” Willow called out as she hurried into the meeting room.

“Where?” Buffy was giving an impromptu ‘how to clean and maintain a sword’ course at the table to two junior Slayers.

“Russia,” Willow said.

“Russia? What the heck is he doing in Russia?” Buffy asked. “Is there something to do with Isis in Russia?”

“I have no idea,” Willow said. “But the secret identity attached to the best-hidden bank account just activated in Russia. St Petersburg. Once I get there, I’ll be close enough to find him, I think.”

“Okay, how fast can we get there?” Buffy looked around. “And who do we take?”

“Dawn's still out for things like this. We need someone who speaks Russian,” Willow said. “I don't.”

“Neither do I, nor does Xander,” Buffy shook her head. “And Adam is in England. I don't think he speaks Russian either, though.”

“Giles does,” Willow said softly.

Buffy grimaced. “Ugh. Well, needs must. I worked with Spike when he was an evil vampire.”

“Spike speaks Russian.”

“We'd have to get him,” Buffy shook her head. “And this way if Giles pulls something, we'll know.”

“Still doesn't explain what Andrew would be doing in St Petersburg,” Willow said.

“We'll find out,” Buffy assured her. “Let's gather up a team and contact the St Petersburg girls.”

**************************************************************

They were taking Candy and Kennedy, whose passport was still in the mail and was kicking around Italy, or at least, kicking demons around Italy as she got over her break up. Willow at least had brought hers, even if the visa stamps to explain her presence weren’t in it. Dealing with things like that, however, was something the old Council had excelled at, and they still had the contacts to arrange something about that. They were wearing sturdy boots and lots of layers. They had heard stories about Russian weather, even though Willow assured them that summers in Russia could be quite warm.

The last member of the group, Giles, was wearing tweed all over. He had a tweed deerstalker, a tweed Burbury, tweed trousers. He even had a suitcase that was covered in tweed, except the leather corners and metal fittings. 

The only thing that wasn't tweed was his shoes.

“Think he's got tweed socks?” Buffy whispered.

Willow giggled. 

“Any news on what he might be doing there?” Xander asked. “I don't think of St Petersburg as a Star Wars figurine collecting kinda place.”

“I think it most likely that he’s in a rumoured temple of the Isis cult underneath the Quay of Sphinxes,” Giles spoke up. “Constructed in the nineteenth century by a number of aficionados of Classical culture, who took things a bit too far. Of course there have been rumours for centuries that the Tsars worshipped Isis. Personally I feel that there would have been more undead Tsars then.”

“You know about it?” Willow asked.

“I made a study of cults and their worship,” Giles said. “We should go. I don’t think we should give Andrew any more time to get settled and gather power to himself.”

Willow nodded and started the spell.

************************************************************** 

They had landed in the basement of a house bought by the Council, or reclaimed to be exact, after the fall of communism. The local Slayers, Ljudmila and Anastasia, had received them with slight awe and respect. Of them all, they'd only met Buffy briefly, during her wandering all over Europe and Asia, looking for Slayers. 

Now they were walking to the Quay of the Sphinxes, to get a feel of the city. Or at least a better feel than the other route, which was by the sewers. As they walked, Willow was giving a thumbnail sketch of the history and current status of the second Russian capital.

Apparently St. Petersburg was a bustling city, full of Russian bravado, corruption and chutzpah, not necessarily in that order, cocooned in the Tsarist era buildings, with the outer reaches of the urban area built up in the Soviet style of brutal and ugly concrete. In the old town centre, Palaces and town houses constructed by the nobles and Bourgeois classes, on the backs of the workers, as the Soviets had said, lined the boulevards along the river, on the islands and the elegant squares. 

Soviet architecture, also built on the backs, sweat and blood of the poor, had forced its way in among the older architecture, but the concrete colossuses were being torn down one by one and replaced by more acceptable, or at least attractive, architecture, fuelled by the new wealth of the new rich and once more built on the backs of the poor and the workers. 

“So you're saying that not much has changed then,” Buffy said before Willow could continue her explanation of the basic socio-economic unfairness of life. 

“Human nature doesn't seem to, so very little else will,” Giles remarked. “This is the place. Universitetskaya Embankment, and that is the Quay of the Sphinxes.”

He pointed at a set of steps that ran down to the river from the embankment. On either side it was flanked by a sphinx. 

“It's a sphinx,” Buffy looked at it. “Ways away from home.”

“The so-called civilized nations stripped Egypt of some of its greatest treasures,” Willow said. “These were made for Amenhotep III, the father of Akhenaten, he was one of the greatest Pharaohs, and Akhenaten was, like, the father of monotheism and real big in the sun worship.”

“Uh-huh,” Buffy said. “Anything to do with Isis?”

“Amenhotep certainly worshipped her. One of his daughter-wives was called Isis,” Giles remarked. 

“Daughter-wives?” Buffy asked.

“They married as close into the royal line as they could marry, to ensure the greatest purity of divine blood,” Giles said.

Buffy grimaced. “Eeew and yuck.”

“Not going to say that we shouldn't judge another culture?” Xander asked Willow.

Willow shook her head. “Not really. I mean, it was pretty clear back then that inbreeding like that made for lot of health problems, so that was really dumb. But culturally, incest has been like, way too common far too often, but it is still yuck and eeew.”

“Having dissected ancient Egyptian Culture,” Giles looked at Ljudmila, who had come with them. “Where would you suggest we should go?”

Ljudmilla had been listening and observing the group. Now she shook her head and spoke in accented English. “The embankment is more than a kilometre long. We can walk along the service tunnel underneath, but that does not guarantee we will find anything.” 

“If we get close enough, I can find Andrew, no matter how well he thinks he’s shielding,” Willow assured her. 

“What is close enough?” Ljudmilla asked.

“We’d better start walking along that tunnel and see,” Buffy decided. “Unless you have a better idea where it might be?”

Ljudmilla shook her head again. “I had never heard of there being a temple here. Almost all the Watchers here were killed by Stalin, and the newer ones by the Bringers. We know very little.”

Giles nodded in sympathetic understanding. “I only heard about it from an elderly refugee, in London. He said that Menshikov was interested in the cult.”

Ljudmila turned and pointed. “Then we go that way, towards the palace. Menshikov had the Blagoveshchensky Bridge built here so he had better access to the Tsar, across the river. But the bridge was rebuilt several times since then and the quay was built a hundred years after his banishment and death.”

“Sounds like a suspicious set of non-coincidences to me,” Xander remarked. “But we don’t have anything better.”

“I’ve got a spell to look for secret doors and stuff,” Willow perked up. “it would be totally cool if I could try that.”

“Seems to be our best shot, unless we want to search the sewers or the basement of that thing all day long,” Buffy looked at the palace. 

Ljudmilla led the way. At the rear, Buffy spoke to Willow, so softly that no one else, not even Ljudmilla could hear. “I totally wanted to say gesundheit when she talked about that blaggy whatsit bridge.”

“Don’t,” Willow shook her head with a slight grin. 

“Be careful,” Buffy smiled back. “We don’t have anything on this except Giles’ say so, and right now I consider that less strong than wet toilet paper.”

Willow nodded. “Being careful, check.”

*************************************************************

The Menshikov Palace had been the first stone building of St Petersburg, after Peter the Great had founded the city, built when he was the Tsar’s, and later Catherine the Great’s, favourite. 

Since then it had seen many uses, but now it was a museum, part of the Hermitage complex. That had meant that getting in was fairly easy. Even getting to the basement was easy, there were exhibitions there. Once there, a swift turn of a knob on a locked door that no mere human strength could open while Willow obfuscated any observation, allowed them to go into the restricted areas. 

“We’ll need to let the authorities know that the door is broken,” Giles made a note. 

“The river is that way,” Ljudmila pointed. 

“Let’s head there and see if Willow’s spell turns something up,” Buffy decided. 

Willow murmured some words while moving her hands in several passes in front of her, mostly her eyes. Then she gestured for Ljudmila to lead the way.

The rooms and passages beyond were rough, cold and damp, bad conditions for storage of art. Mould even grew in some places, and the whitewash sloughed off.

“Not used very often, I’d say,” Giles said. 

“And not up to code,” Xander grinned. “That wiring looks very dodgy.”

“Its extension cords run over old torch brackets, Xander. The only code that’s up to is the ‘we’re all gonna die in a fire’ one,” Willow said with a shake of her head.

She kept looking around, at the walls, floor and ceiling and frowning occasionally. “Lots of renovations, reconstructions and stuff.”

“It might even no longer exist,” Giles said. “What with all the rebuilding. But I can’t imagine what else Andrew might be doing here.”

“Neither can I, but I do not want to turn those lights on, so flashlights everybody,” Buffy ordered. 

They got them out and set off, Willow still looking around intently.

“Got something,” Willow called out softly, pointing at a piece of wall. “Let me see…” she poked and prodded for a bit, then pulled at one of the torch brackets, being careful not to electrocute herself.

There was a grinding noise as a piece of wall moved, scattering the whitewash along the edges and scraping across the floor. “No one went in here for, like, ages,” Buffy noted. 

“Andrew might have used a different way to get in,” Giles frowned. “Or we’re on a wild goose chase and he’s just travelling through to somewhere else.”

Willow shook her head. “He’s still in the city, even if I won’t be able to say exactly where until I’m closer. There’s really got to be someone powerful helping him.”

“I have to admit that it seems utterly unlikely that Andrew could manage a plan like this on his own. There are too few silly embellishments,” Giles said. 

“Let’s go,” Buffy said.

The tunnel beyond the basement was oddly enough in better shape. Cut stone and brick made up the walls. It had been plastered at one time, but the damp from the river and lack of upkeep had caused it to flake and crumble, but remnants of colours and outlines could be seen.

Ljudmila took point again, followed by Willow, with Kennedy right behind her, then Giles, then Candy, Xander and Buffy brought up the rear. 

“We're on the right track,” Giles noted. “These are parts of murals dedicated to the Dark Mysteries of Isis.”

“Well, that's something,” Buffy acknowledged. “Are there spells on this place?”

“I don't think that Andrew has had time to get them up again, if there ever were any. The ones in Rome had, like, been there for ages. That temple has been there since the days of the Roman Empire and this one was only built in the eighteenth century. And I don't think they did a very good job either,” Willow touched a mural, which came down in a slithering crash and subsided into a moist, smelly heap at the bottom of the wall.

“That's good. Those spells were way irritating,” Buffy nodded. “Okay. We should be getting close to the temple here, right?”

“If we can find it,” Ljudmila stopped as they reached a junction in a small, domed chamber where entrances to four more passages were visible in the light of her electric torch. More fallen plaster littered the floor.

“Great. Okay, there has to be a way to find out what way we need to go,” Buffy looked at each tunnel in turn, wrinkling her nose. “They all stink, so that tells us nothing, but I think this one stinks the worst and there's a draught coming from that one. How would these Isis worshipping guys find their way around?”

“They'd have memorised the route,” Giles said.

“Okay. I think they're all dead, so finding out that way's out. What if someone from another temple showed up?” Buffy asked.

“They probably are, or this place would be better kept,” Giles agreed. “But the murals would show the way to the initiated. And the murals are gone. And I never studied all the mysteries, since some of them require human sacrifice.”

“Really? Thought you'd be a total shoe in then,” Buffy muttered. 

Giles's face became utterly impassive.

“I’m feeling something, thataway,” Willow pointed, before things could deteriorate further.

“The smelliest,” Buffy sighed. “Of course it would be.”

Ljudmila set off again, and the others followed. 

About fifty metres on there was another domed room, though this one was triangular, with the passages at the corners, and three ribs cut the ceiling into once plastered and painted sections.

“Okay. More and more thinking we should've brought a ball of string,” Buffy said, as she moved carefully into the room.

Xander was the only Scoobie who saw Giles smile slightly and approvingly.

“This one smells the worst,” Buffy coughed. “And phe-ew, is it bad.”

“We are near sewer,” Ljudmila shrugged. “Russian shit smelly.”

Buffy grinned. “I'm not gonna claim that American shit is smellier just to keep that silly rivalry going. I'm totally willing to admit that Russian shit is smellier.”

Ljudmila looked as if she was unsure how to reply to that remark.

Buffy laughed. “Willow?”

Willow was frowning. “Not one of the passages,” she said, pointing at a wall. Ljudmila and Buffy made room. 

“Do your magic, Willow,” Buffy bowed extravagantly.

Willow smirked. “Not so magic. You can totally see where the rust from the bands on the door and the nails and stuff are, like, seeping through the plaster.” 

Buffy looked again and sighed. “I can't believe I missed that.”

“I was seeing it from further away, and your light was shining on it the right way,” Willow explained. “Okay, I think I can open this.”

Giles had been looking around as well. “Wait,” he held up a hand and moved closer to the wall. “Dear lord.”

“What?” Buffy asked.

“There's writing on these walls,” Giles ran his finger in front of them. “In Greek, not hieroglyphics.”

“And that means?” Buffy crossed her arms. “Weren't these cultist guys from all sorts of places? And isn't Russian, like, written like Greek?”

Giles nodded and once again Xander thought he looked oddly pleased. “Yes. But in this case it is the contents of the writing. I recognised a fragment from what we know of the Grimoire of Iambilichus.”

“Jam billy who?” Buffy blinked.

“Iambilichus. He was a Greek philosopher who believed that certain rituals could unite one with the divine, a theurg. The last pagan emperor of Rome prized a single letter of his more than the income of an entire province,” Willow said. “And his grimoire has supposedly been lost for, like, ages and ages.”

“With only a few fragments remaining,” Giles confirmed. “So we can hope that these are fragments...”

“Nope,” Buffy sighed. “Pretty sure I know what Andrew wants here now. This was all about getting up close with Isis, and this Jam Billy guy's book is totally what he needs.”

“Quite,” Giles said. “And even though he himself was considered a virtuous man, even by many Christians, his knowledge would be easy to abuse.”

“Okay,” Buffy reached into the air. The Scythe appeared. “Will? Can you open that door without getting any of us killed?”

Willow nodded. “The wards are really old and crummy.” 

She opened her bag and got out some bags and pots and started to mix stuff up and then threw it against the wall, humming and chanting.

There was a loud crack and then the plaster collapsed as another door opened. It, too, clearly had been meant to merge seamlessly into the wall, but once more age and damp had played its part.

The door was heavy wood, set with strong metal bands and wooden studs to hold the plaster. The builders had clearly not expected the place to go without maintenance for so long.

There was another passage, a short one, that ended in a half-moon shaped chamber.

“Bingo,” Buffy said. “Okay, battle stations.”

Giles unlimbered a folding crossbow from underneath his coat, let a sword slide from his back to his side and shook his sleeves to settle his throwing knives better. 

Xander took the cover off his axe. The younger Slayers readied their weapons.

Buffy whirled the Scythe through the air, in an intricate set of movements. It sang. 

They moved into the larger room and towards the door in the inward curve. Willow smirked as she placed a hand on the breast of one of the statues on either side of the doors and pressed the nipple.

The door opened and Buffy sprinted in. Giles moved to right side, hugging the wall as the others spread out. Kennedy stayed with Willow, but Xander imitated Giles and took the left hand wall, axe at the ready.

Andrew let out a sound that sounded like a squealing piglet. He backed away from Buffy, clutching a large, leather and canvas bound package. Mummies moved in, their movements slowed by the damp that had penetrated their bindings.

Andrew kicked a stone next to the altar and a slab of stone fell from the ceiling, closing off most of the room. 

Buffy swore and moved to the narrow passage that had been left between the wall and the stone, cutting down mummies as she went.

“Buffy, no!” Giles yelled and jumped to block the tight space. There was a click as a floor tile depressed and a whoosh and a set of bolts, rusted and tumbling, shot from the wall. 

The Scythe whirled and three, four, five bolts were struck down. The sixth struck. 

Giles looked at the bolt standing out from his sternum, raised his crossbow and fired. Andrew let out a yelp of pain. There was a rumble of stone. Buffy tumbled through the opening, Scythe at the ready. Two swift blows destroyed the altar. Once more Andrew had escaped, cutting off his pursuers by collapsing the tunnels behind him.

Buffy turned on her heel. Giles had collapsed against the wall, eyes closed, hand on the bolt.

Buffy knelt by him and touched his arm. “Giles?”

One eye opened, a hand, already cooling, clasped her wrist. “Buffy. Sorry. Perfect... Perfect mother... Help Jenny... Death is your gift.”

A small smile curled his lips as his eyes closed again. The hand around Buffy's wrist relaxed and fell to his lap.

Buffy rose, slowly.

Xander knelt. “Crap.”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. I don't care who is behind this. I don't care that he was, like, totally going Travers on us. Once, he was a Scoobie. And they're going down.” 

Willow was whispering to herself. A white light flowed from her hands and over Giles. “Okay. That should hold for a bit.”

“Hold what?”

“He's only mostly dead. All we need to do now is get him out of here and into a hospital and hope they didn't poison those bolts as well.”

Buffy looked at her former Watcher. “Okay. But the whole they're going down bit? That still stands.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan**

**Chapter 20**

Sean Burns had rarely seen such a battered, bruised lot of psyches. And that was saying something. Four years in the trenches, six years at war in Europe and Asia, that was the sort of circumstance that made this sort of trauma happen. 

Add in a liberal amount of dumb mistakes, stupid pride, misguided actions and what even a kind heart would see as pure betrayal, and you got a group like the ones that called themselves 'The Scoobies.'

He was beginning to understand why Duncan had asked for his help. Of course it had taken some time to help Duncan first, after the dark Quickening. If Patient X hadn't been there, Sean would have been dead. His most extraordinary Patient X.

It had taken Sean, who didn't overestimate but also didn't underestimate his abilities, about half a century to be sure about who was visiting him for help.

The very notion that Methos would seek psychological aid was startling. Of course he came by very rarely and very secretively and Sean had been almost sure on several occasions that he wasn't going to keep his head.

He had dropped the final hints very recently. After the death of his Brothers. Duncan McLeod didn't know how lucky he was. He'd never formed such an intent bond with another Immortal and had the Brothers been any less mad, any less bent on world conquest, murder and rapine, it would have been Duncan's Quickening that would have been shared. 

Sean had gotten very quietly drunk that evening, after X had left, something he very rarely did.

After that, talking to Buffy Summers and her young friends was almost easy.

Rupert Giles was a tougher nut to crack. But Sean had been sure he’d manage eventually. 

Now, however, chances of that were exceedingly remote. Even though the bolt had been removed from his chest and the damage, relatively little, that it had done had been repaired, there was indeed poison in the wound and no one knew what kind. Rupert Giles was sinking ever deeper and unless a cure was found soon, would die.

Sean only knew about the poison because they'd asked him if he knew what it might be. If he'd been his old friend Cadfael, passed on so long ago, and had spent the last thousand years studying herbs and poisons instead of the human mind, he might have been able to help. Regrettably he hadn't much more knowledge than the average mortal about things like that. After all, he'd just die and get up again and in spite of what some might think, the number of murders in monasteries was rather low. And most didn't involve poison either.

So that left him trying to track down Buffy Summers to attempt to talk to her about her rather up down, twisted relationship with her Watcher. So far, he'd had no luck. Maybe one of her friends, or her sister, could tell him where she was. Of course from what he knew about Slayers, they tended to go and fight and kill things if they were upset. He didn't think he was up to facing the sort of thing Buffy Summers fought to reduce her stress levels. He'd fought so little over the last millennium he'd almost forgotten which end of the sword to hold.

With a sigh he set out to find Willow Rosenberg. At least he knew where she'd be, with a book in the infirmary. 

************************************************************

Buffy was scowling as she fought her way through a group of Polgara who had made the sad mistake, for them, of thinking Rome was a good city to settle now that so many of the demons who lived there were dead, and the Immortal too. 

No-one had ever said Polgara were smart, of course. 

They had set up shop in the subterranean villa that the Immortal had called home. Well, part of home. Most of his home was actually above ground. 

She blew a strand of sweaty hair from her face. 

Someone slow clapped. She turned and her eyes narrowed. “So, you're back?”

Adam waved a languid hand at himself. “Obviously.”

“You know what happened?” Buffy asked.

“I have been informed,” Adam said.

“Any ideas?” Buffy threw the Scythe in the air. It disappeared. Adam pursed his lips, as he looked at where the weapon had been.

“Well, I was told that there were many traps in places such as that. That poison of some kind was used doesn't surprise me,” Adam sat down on a dusty couch. No one except the Polgara had dared to come here since the demise of the Immortal after Buffy and then the Council had tossed the place looking for information. “Comfy.”

“Any ideas on the poison?” Buffy growled.

“Nothing that would be helpful right now. Sit,” Adam said pointedly.

“Why should I?” Buffy crossed her arms.

“Because from what I can tell, you haven't since Rupert got shot five days ago. Sit,” Adam reached into the pocket of his overcoat and drew out a packet of sandwiches, then another and a third and fourth from the other side. A can of juice came from an inside pocket. “Eat. Drink.” 

Buffy had been about to protest she wasn't hungry when her stomach rumbled. Loudly. That at least allowed her to grin sheepishly and sit down and accept the food, rather than collapse on the couch at the command in his voice. 

“Think you can find anything out?” 

“I've been reading up on poisons in London, in the Old Archives, with what I had been told. At least we can eliminate some of them,” Adam shrugged. “But it isn't a natural one. The analysis showed that. And it's resistant to the spells and rituals Willow has tried.”

“I didn't know that,” Buffy said around a huge mouthful.

“You haven't been around much,” Adam said dryly. “What with annihilating vast numbers of Rome's remaining demons. I was expecting you to be halfway down the Via Sub Appia to Naples by now.”

Buffy shook her head. “I wanted to be close. And only the toughest are still here. So good fights.”

Adam looked at the scattered Polgara bits with one raised eyebrow.

“Okay, toughest and dumbest. I only came here because I thought I might have missed something that might help,” she admitted.

“We went through it with a fine toothed comb,” Adam looked around. “But it may be advisable to have Willow look for secret doors and magically shrouded areas. Xander was quite enthusiastic about that, after St Petersburg.”

“He would be. Xander’s probably the one who inspired it, with his roleplaying games. He also wants her to create a spell to find treasure,” Buffy shook her head wryly.

“Not find Twinkies?” Adam smiled at her. 

Buffy laughed. It sounded rusty and harsh.

“So,” Adam said. “You were about ready to part his head from his shoulders with the Scythe. And now this.”

Buffy's laugh died and she glared at him. “Then it would've been my choice. Also he totally can't die just after saving my life. Well, maybe. I might have blocked all the bolts if he hadn't pushed me to the side.”

“Or you might have found yourself restricted by the space you were in,” Adam said. “So this is about someone else killing him?” 

Buffy sighed. “Well. He used to be a pretty good guy. I really liked him back in the early days in Sunnyhell. He was there, in the bad times. Mom didn't believe yet and he was the responsible adult. He got more human, more approachable after the Eyghon thing, but things just... Lots of things went wrong. I felt more and more that he stopped listening to me. Then the stuff happened before Sunnydale fell. And the others, they tried to make up for it, to apologise, especially lately. But he just got worse and worse with the manipulation, and the setting up Guinevere with the Immortal and all sorts of yucky things.”

“And then he jumped in front of you and took a poisoned bolt for you,” Adam said.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “Then that. And I don’t think he just did it because he wanted me to be alive to deal with upcoming apocalypses either.”

“Well, your father turns out to have had reasons for not being there. Maybe Giles has an excuse. From what you’ve told me it can only be a stupid one, but he may think he has one,” Adam said. Then he sneezed. “This place is really dusty.”

“Yeah. There was a bunch of vampires in the upper levels,” Buffy shrugged. “They kinda filtered down.”

Adam shook his head. “I was expecting this place to be far emptier.”

“You were? There’s not much here for the council,” Buffy looked around. “We took all the books.”

Adam thumped the couch. “This is a real Chesterfield. That cabinet that Polgara so unhelpfully broke with his head is an eighteenth century French piece, Louis XV. Selling this stuff would pay the bills at one of the larger Slayer houses for a year. That’s this room alone. I passed some things that Tom Grace would love to own. That regrettably destroyed cabinet for one.”

Buffy looked at the broken cabinet and winced. “Ah. I’ll call in some of the girls and clean it out.”

“Good,” Adam rose and held out a hand to her. “Let’s go.”

“Tom Grace?” Buffy asked. 

“An author I know,” Adam shrugged. “He collects antiques.”

“Like Thomas Grace, the mystery writer? Mom loved his work,” Buffy sounded wistful.

“Him, yes,” Adam nodded. 

“Is it true that some mad guy tried to kill him with some sort of sword?” Buffy asked. “Mom always said she found that kinda weird, that the guy got away with acting like he was dead.”

“I understand that there might have been something going on that later involved another gentleman and another sword,” Adam smiled slightly. “Though it wasn't Curtana the sword of Mercy that dealt the final blow. Some people take offense at the theft of regalia and the threatening of their friends.”

“So, more like Katana, the sword of McLeod?” Buffy smiled.

“Something like that,” Adam said. “Something like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **End Note:**
> 
> **The film referred to in the chapter is[The Man who wouldn’t Die](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_Who_Wouldn%27t_Die_\(1995_film\)).**


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 21**

“'Buffy. Sorry. Perfect... Perfect mother... Help Jenny... Death is your gift,'” Willow murmured. “Right. That makes absolutely no sense. Does it make sense to you?” she looked at Adam, hopefully.

Adam pursed his lips. “It makes sense in the way the ravings of a man poisoned by a lethal and possibly hallucinogenic substance might make sense.”

Willow sighed. “Nothing rings a bell?”

“One thing, maybe,” Adam admitted. “But not the rest. Does any of it make sense to you? 

“Well, like, each separate bit makes some sense,” Willow admitted. “Taken together, not so much.”

“Let's start with that then,” Adam said. “And then we can see if what I think I know makes more sense than your sense.”

“Okay. Well, Buffy, that's probably just him recognising her,” Willow looked at Adam. “Unless it means something in some language you know?”

“It means small, destructive and eavesdropping in an Aramaic dialect,” Adam said. “Actually, more like tiny. Really, really tiny. Really, really destructive.” 

“Hey!” Buffy called out and scowled, as she stepped out from behind the door she’d barely open to listen in. “I'm not small. And I'm totally not of the destructive!”

“So you admit the eavesdropping,” Adam said dryly. “Eventually we'll get you to face reality fully.”

Buffy stuck out her tongue. “You were totally talking about me. I'm allowed to listen in on things that are about me.”

“I'm sure that Dawn fully agrees with that,” Adam nodded. 

Willow who'd started to giggle at Adam's 'translation', sobered. “So. ‘Sorry’.”

“Was a lame way to try and apologise on his kinda-sorta almost death bed,” Buffy said. “Maybe just for pushing me. It's totally lame if that was for all the stuff he pulled.”

“He was dropping into a coma,” Willow pointed out. “He didn't like, have lots of time for grovelling speeches.”

Buffy nodded, a bit grudgingly. “Well, maybe. 'Perfect mother'?”

“It's most likely a reference to Isis. She's the goddess of motherhood, or at least one of them,” Willow looked at Adam, who nodded. 

“And they called her the perfect mother. So maybe some sort of hint of what they might be planning? Or more ravings?” Buffy asked.

“I'm kinda inclined to go with the ravings,” Willow admitted. 

“He didn't sound totally sane and coherent, no,” Buffy said.

“Okay. ‘Help Jenny’,” Willow shook her head. “We've got seven Slayers who are named Jenny, Jennifer, Jeanie or variations of it. We've put a watch on all of them and we've asked every Seer we know of to keep a mind of them. No one has even seen a peep. Not one of them met Giles more than once, or not at all.”

“Only seven?” Buffy smiled. “I'm amazed, I thought we'd have two dozen at least.”

“That's just because you're used to Jeanie and she seems to be all over the place,” Adam said. “She reminds me of someone. I can’t quite recall who.”

Buffy stuck out her tongue.

“I've looked into any other possible Jenny's that Giles might know,” Willow continued. “The only one I can find any reference to is Jenny Calendar.”

Buffy grimaced. “Okay, after the really bad apology he wants me to have the really bad, make that even worse case of the major guilt?”

Willow shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Well, considering the way he had been behaving, maybe he was,” Buffy muttered. “I feel bad enough about that, without him blaming me on his death floor.”

“Death floor?” Adam frowned.

“Did you see any beds?” Buffy asked sweetly.

Adam sent her a sour 'I can't believe I fell for that' look. “Which leaves 'Death is your gift'.”

“Which is part of a prophecy that was told to Buffy,” Willow said, once it was clear that Buffy wasn't going to.

“And which totally sucked,” Buffy added. “I got it before I jumped.”

“I see,” Adam sent her a long thoughtful look. “I see.” 

“You think my interpretation is wrong?” Willow asked.

“I think it makes perfect sense,” Adam said. “I'm just not sure it's all the sense that's in there.”

“Well, you're Mr Clever Watcher,” Buffy smiled. “With the long, long line of stuff gathering ancestors. I'm sure you can figure it out.” 

************************************************************ 

“She was, like, totally flirting with him all the time,” Willow complained. “And she isn't even noticing it. And he might not be either, or he's totally not encouraging her.”

“She's completely one with the blonde obliviousness on this one,” Xander agreed.

“She's like a concussed duckling whenever he's around,” Dawn added. “She's totally got no idea at all.”

“I'm a bit surprised that she went for him,” Xander admitted. “I thought he'd be too, you know, not bad boy enough.”

“Buffy does seem to like a bit of bad in her boy,” Willow nodded. “But she's usually better at realising she's got a crush.”

“And he is handsome,” Dawn said. “And he knows how to fight.”

“He knows how to use a flamethrower,” Xander pointed out. “Where did he learn that?”

“Not exactly a common skill,” Dawn agreed.

“It is for certain volunteer firefighters,” Willow replied. “He actually listed it on his résumé. He got taught in California, while he was doing research.”

“Huh,” Xander said. “Still pretty cool. So. How do we get Miss Oblivious together with Mister Unobliging?”

“He isn’t gay, is he?” Dawn asked. “That would suck.”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You know what I mean,” Dawn said.

“Yeah, and no, all his relationships I've been able to find out about have been with women,” Willow answered. “But be honest, with Buffy’s track record?”

“Point,” Xander agreed. “Okay. All we can do is make sure they have lots of face time, until he finally gets how awesome the Buffster is.”

“Face to face time,” Dawn smirked. “Lots.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 22**

Buffy had once more found her way to Adam's flat. Though her relationship with Dawn had improved immensely, she felt drawn to the untidy and book-filled space.

Dawn had just smirked when she'd said where she was going. Dawn was obviously infected by Willow. 

Willow, who was absolutely certain that Buffy ‘like-liked’ Adam, and he felt the same. And that they should just get on with it and admit it and see where things led. Willow could be very annoying sometimes. It was after all absolutely clear there never could be anything between Adam and her. For reasons.

“I didn't think you'd have another working firearm,” Buffy asked as she saw the Colt on the desk, with the cleaning materials beside it. “That looks old. And big.”

“Another family heirloom,” Adam said wryly. “This one from the degenerate, fallen branch.”

“Which one is that?” Buffy asked.

“The one that went to America,” Adam replied, deadpan.

Buffy glared at him. “Watch it, buster.”

Adam laughed. “It belonged to some gun-slinging sheriff. Though my ancestor took it as payment for services, that didn't prevent the man from ending up on Boot Hill. Of course he started out as a professional gambler who may or may not have been completely on the straight and narrow.”

“Your ancestors led pretty interesting lives,” Buffy bent down to look more closely at the weapon. “Do you know a name?”

“Maverick. Brett Maverick.”

“Never heard of him,” Buffy said. “Is he supposed to have been famous, like Wyatt Earp?” 

“Like I said, he was a professional gambler and cardsharp. He did make a lot of money doing that, eventually. He built some gambling houses and saloons,” Adam shrugged. “His children eventually sold all of them to the Mob.”

“You always give your stories such happy endings,” Buffy complained. “So. Any new ideas?”

“On what Vail's plans are? Or Andrew's? Or Amy's? I never met Amy, remember. You would be much better at figuring her out than I would. And I haven't thought of anything new about whatever poisoned Rupert. So no,” Adam continued his oiling, visually checking everything was covered just so.

“Well, that's a disappointment,” Buffy leaned back. “Not even a tiny little thought?” 

“I have lots and lots of thoughts,” Adam said. “Some of them quite big and intricate and dare I say it, exciting. Nothing about this. Except that we may want to go to Sunnydale.”

“Why Sunnydale?” Buffy frowned. “It's a hole in the ground full of water and bad memories.”

“For one thing, Willow told me about a spell used by someone called Jonathan,” Adam said. 

“Ugh, that one. At least he didn't, like, use the time to make us all think we'd slept with him, or really sleep with us,” Buffy wrinkled her nose.

“A very minor silver lining to a very dark cloud. But the way Willow described it makes me think that it might have been founded in theurgy, trying to assimilate the power of a god,” Adam put the revolver down.

“Yeah? But all that happened in a place that's way down in the depths now,” Buffy pointed out.

Adam started to clean his hands on some old cloths. “Yes. But there's still a lot of power hanging around there. A Slayer died there. Three times. A god died, and a champion of the trolls was defeated, Acathla and the Judge. All that power, most of it will still be there. But to Amy and Andrew, and probably Vail, reaching for the link to the power of Glory will be the most important. If they can bind that to themselves and control it, they can then use that to control any power of Isis they draw down and make it their own.”

Buffy scowled at him. “All your stories just suck, don't they?” 

“This is not a story,” Adam said. “It's a theorem.”

“Okay, all your theorems totally suck,” Buffy grumbled. “Okay. We'd better go back to good ol' Sunnyhell.”

“At least the weather should be nice, and we'll be close to LA and you can go shopping. And we can take some of the antiques we gathered and sell them, so that could run to quite a few shoes,” Adam soothed her as he rose to wash his hands.

Buffy perked up. “Cool. Let's go do that then.” 

“And I'm sure Willow wants to see how Fred's doing,” Adam added. 

“The more of her the better,” Buffy said.

************************************************************

“So. It's a big hole, with the sea flowing into it,” Xander said, with a look at what was now called the Bay of Sunnydale, in Sunnydale Memorial National Park.

It had been created, with full support of Congress, two weeks after the fall of the town. They were at the location of the old Welcome to Sunnydale sign. Someone had actually put it up again. There was a brown history plaque underneath, which stated that at the time of the town's collapse of the Sunnydale sea-cave system during the Quake of 2001, the population had been thirty-six thousand nine hundred and twenty-six and that of those, all but a hundred had managed to escape due to the warning given by the subsonics caused by the sea entering the caves and the fault lines. 

A lot of the names on the list of the victims were all too familiar to the Scoobies. 

“Yes,” Adam agreed. “A big hole, with a great deal of power still swirling in it. Great evil was done here, and great sacrifices made.”

Willow nodded. “Gives me a headache. And it makes me queasy.”

“It still feels kinda evil,” Buffy agreed, looking at her watch. “Faith should be here soon.”

As she finished speaking the roar of a heavy motorcycle made itself heard in the distance.

“That's her,” Buffy said to Adam. “Better be prepared.”

They watched in silence as Faith drove up, with two junior Slayers in tow, each on their own bike.

“Still no Watcher?” Adam asked.

Buffy snorted. “Faith hasn't had many good experiences with Watchers. And fewer of them than you think ride motorcycles.”

“It's hard to fit all the books in the saddlebags,” Adam said. “I sympathise.”

The bikes drew up, with a final roar, into places marked for them on the parking site. 

Faith took off her sunglasses. She wasn't wearing a helmet. Of course. “B. Red. Xander,” she looked Adam up and down. “Who's Mr Cheekbones? Can I have him?”

Adam pursed his lips. “I'm Adam Pierson, Senior Watcher. And no.”

The two junior Slayers with Faith sniggered. “He couldn't handle you anyway, Faith,” one said. “You wore that last guy down to a nub.”

“And he was a total jock. This guy's a weenie.”

“Anna,” Buffy said warningly. 

“He's a weenie who's gonna teach me how to use a flamethrower,” Xander said. “And who likes shooting people.”

“Like is a big word,” Adam objected. “Let's say that if the necessity presents itself, I will use firearms.”

“Anna,” Faith shook her head. “You've gotta put a leash on that tongue, girl, or I'll put one on you.”

Anna rolled her eyes and wandered away. “Whatever,”

“We were never that bad, right?” Buffy looked at Willow.

“We totally weren't,” Willow agreed.

“At least not where your mom could hear us,” Xander said. “Crap. Sorry.”

Buffy smiled and put a gentle hand on his arm. “Xander, I've hardly been thinking about anything else. There's lots of people we love down there. We were bound to think of them as soon as we got here.” 

“Tara,” Willow said with a catch in her voice.

“Anya,” Xander added solemnly.

“Mom,” Buffy sighed. 

Faith was silent and her eyes haunted. 

“So,” Buffy turned from her contemplation of the lapping waves. “The place where the school was is miles that way,” she waved out towards the bay. “How do we get there?”

“By boat,” Adam replied. “They rent them out.”

“Is it me, or is profiting from that sort of thing a bit sleazy?” Willow said.

Buffy pointed at a shore-line building. “More than a bit.”

“Willy's Café and Boat House? Really?” Willow scowled. “Okay. Let's go see what he's got to say for himself.”

She strode towards it. The others followed. Faith hung back and Buffy fell back at a look from her fellow Slayer. “Yes, Faith?”

“I'm getting weird vibes from this place, B,” Faith said.

“So am I,” Buffy admitted. “Which tells me that Adam was probably right that this place isn't played out yet.”

“Yeah. So. Is anyone dating him? He is kinda hunky.” 

“No,” Buffy said. “He's like completely and totally available.”

Faith lifted an eyebrow. Buffy’s voice was airy in the way that snowstorms straight from Antarctica were. “Ri-ight. I'll remember that.” 'And warn every Mini that even looking at Adam Pierson will get you hogtied, whipped, skinned and covered in salt and lemon juice by the Senior Slayer. Better tell Anna to tune back even the ogling.' 

She grinned a little. It had been a while since Buffy had last had a boyfriend who could keep up with her. Now to wait and see if there was enough bad in the boy to keep her interest.

“I heard that you got Fang some help?” 

Buffy nodded. “We found a really good lawyer. He's invoked something called the Ritual of the Stone. Fred told Willow that they were practically wetting their pants when he came by and the Stone thing has them gibbering, so I'm cautiously hopeful.”

“Why haven't others done things like that?” Faith asked.

“Apparently you need to pass some sort of exam, and stuff like that,” Buffy said. “And the Council forgot about it, or didn't want to put in the resources or whatever.”

“Huh. So, found a Watcher for me yet?” Faith asked guilelessly. 

“Not one that doesn't want to start running as soon as they hear who they might be watching,” Buffy said dryly.

“Ah well, I'll just have to make do with whatever bikers I meet then,” Faith leered. Then she called out to Adam, who had fallen back a bit as well. “Unless you know some cycle-loving hotrod?”

Adam looked over his shoulder. “I'll see what I can do.” And smiled.

For some reason, that smile worried Faith. It was far too knowing and far too amused for her peace of mind.

There was a roar of an engine, another motorbike. It was a huge silver and red Harley. Faith whistled as it surged up. “Nice wheels.”

It spun neatly into place next to her own, the driver kicked the stand down and swung off, putting his helmet away. He wore white and red bike leathers. “Nice moves,” Faith muttered. 

The driver bent down and stretched, opening the zipper on his suit. 

“Nice buns,” Faith grinned. “Dibs on him, B. Look, he's coming over.”

The man looked around. They saw his eyes widen. He waved an arm “Wait up!” and started to run towards them at a steady jog. He was quite young, tall, handsome and his curly hair a bit sweaty from the helmet. 

Faith took on a nonchalant pose.

He ran right past her and Buffy and threw his arms around Adam. “Adam. Damn, it's good to see you.”

“Hello Richie. Richie, this is Buffy Summers and Faith Lehane. Buffy, Faith, this is Richie Ryan, a friend of Duncan's.”

“A friend?” Buffy asked. “Or a _friend_?”

“Mac is way too straight to even experiment,” Richie sniggered.

“She meant to ask if you're Immortal,” Adam sighed. “Yes, he is, but he hasn’t been for very long and yes, they know about Immortals.”

“Richie Ryan. There's a motorcycle champion called that, but he … died. Crap,” Faith whistled. “So, you any good handling a throttle?”

“The very best,” Richie said. “Want me to show you?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and started walking again. Adam fell in beside her.

“How did he get here?”

“He's a pupil of McLeod’s. I asked Joe to sign him in we were here. He's pretty good with that sword and he knows about the supernatural. He helped fight Ahriman.”

“That was a pretty bad situation,” Buffy said. “He the one that Mac nearly beheaded?”

“Yes. He's understandably a bit leery of getting too near McLeod for a bit.”

“He knows you,” Buffy said.

“I hung around Joe. The whole meeting Immortals thing sort of came along with that,” Adam shrugged. “It was something to do on a Saturday night.”

“So what do you do on Saturday nights when there are no Immortals around?” Buffy lifted an eyebrow.

“I’m thinking of taking up needlepoint. I feel it will be quite restful,” Adam said.

“Right. I can see that,” Buffy agreed. 

“Honestly, mostly I read. I find it very relaxing,” Adam shrugged. “With a beer.”

“Not much for beer,” Buffy muttered.

“You don’t say,” Adam drawled. “You know, Xander and Willow had some very interesting things to say about that.”

“Which were absolutely not true!” Buffy snapped. “Like, total lies! Completely! Or not nearly as bad as Xander and the Mantis lady and Willow and her pervy evil vampire her.”

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you can tell me all about that, over a cup of coffee.”

“Not beer?” 

“For the right company, I’ll even forego beer,” Adam smiled at her.

Buffy wondered why her heart speeded up when she wasn’t running or fighting. Must be the nearness of Sunnydale and the wretched memories.


	23. Chapter 23

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**The series referred to in the last chapter is Maverick.**

**Chapter 23**

There was a battery of lawyers arrayed on one side of the table, each with suits and clothes and watches and jewellery and briefcases, pens and mechanical pencils trying to outdo the others in quiet opulence and supposedly understated wealth and power. There were piles of paper, folders, stacks of memos between them. 

On the other side of the table was a man in a black wool cassock, wearing sandals and with a dark rope around his middle, drinking tea. He had a very flimsy folder of his own. 

“That was lovely. The hemlock was a nice touch,” he nodded at the opposing side. “Of course, I long ago became immune to it, but I do so like the flavour.”

The lawyers grinned weakly. 

“Shall we continue?” Darius asked, cheerfully. “Or did you want a longer break to consider the inappropriateness of attempting to lay claim to the soul and body of Mr William Pratt, also known as Spike and William the Bloody?” 

“We did provide the necklace,” one lawyer pointed out, rather weakly.

“Yes, which brings us to the point exactly how you got the amulet of Nut-Re?” Darius flicked his folder open and made a tiny mark with a rather battered pencil in an old-fashioned holder. 

The legion of lawyers craned their necks to try and read it. He flicked the folder closed again. “It was last in possession of the Patriarch of Alexandria in the ninth century until it was stolen, by main force, resulting in the death of the Patriarch, the perpetrators were traced to a certain Αρσενικό ελάφι, or Mr Hart. Several years later it was to be found in the treasury of a certain Mr Wolfe. By the Treaty of Cambyses, the persons and property of members of the clergy of any religion are free of molestation, though corruption and seduction are permitted methods. Quite sufficient methods, I would think.”

The lawyers winced. Darius continued. “Which means that under the Treaty of Cambyses-”

“Objection!” A lawyer shot to his feet and addressed the empty head of the table. “There is no full text of the Treaty of Cambyses!”

“Your Library Archives list a full text of the Treaty amongst its holdings, since the time of its writing,” Darius replied, unperturbed. “I admit, however, that until recently the Council did not have one anymore, the last full text being stolen by a treasonous Watcher in the twelfth century, from the Temple at Paris. One has been located and I have been able to refresh my memory of its contents. Also interestingly enough, depriving the other side of the ability to consult or copy the text of the Full Treaty is punishable under Section one, subsection two, article three. I seem to recall that the fine is two hundred solidi of gold for every day it is withheld after a full and legal request to see or copy it. This article was used several decades earlier to claim several thousand solidi from the Watchers' Council, when your firm's legal predecessor filed such a request when stating that their own had been destroyed. Interestingly enough, when the Council filed a full and legal request, a copy of which has been deposited with the Stone, it was refused, and the Wolf, Ram and Hart claimed to not possess one and that the section was not in play in that particular matter. I understand that the total value and weight of all the gold in the world isn't enough to pay for this, but we'll take a check, with a suitable addition for loss on the gold market, of course.”

There was a flash of light from the empty seat and the Lawyer sat down, smiling sickly.

“However, returning to the original matter of the amulet, I think that you will find that it has been contrarily withheld from the rightful owner. The value of this Amulet, according to your own accountants' most recent inventory, is forty million dollars. According to article three of subsection five 'Fines and punishments', including compound interest and an accounting for the unlawful death of the Patriarch, comes to 67 billion dollars,” Darius smiled. “Of course any claim to the soul, demon or body of Mr Pratt must be considered null and void, since the amulet does not, in fact, belong to Wolfram and Hart.”

“The Treaty of Cambyses is null and void itself,” a tall, dark man declared.

“It is?” Darius lifted an eyebrow at him. “Do please explain your reasoning, Mr Hamilton.”

“The calling of all the Potentials and the spread of the Slayer line has cast the balance into disarray. This was a wilful and deliberate act by Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg,” Hamilton said. “At the same time it was an act of Force, as the Potentials did not have a choice in the matter.”

Darius nodded. “I see. That would mean that the Treaty became void on the date of the Fall of Sunnydale and the closing of the Sunnydale Hellmouth. However, Section two, subsection one, article two, regarding the duration of the Treaty very clearly states that the fines and punishments will remain in force until such a time as a new treaty has been agreed upon, or the abrogated treaty renewed, or it has been agreed that no new treaty will be agreed upon for a period of time. If your Senior Partners choose the latter option, that means that all the terms of the treaty, including the ones on use of weapons, certain proscribed spells and the involvement of the civil authorities would be void.”

Hamilton swallowed slightly. “There's no need to go quite that far.”

“And of course the Treaty isn't voided, since each of the Potentials as a matter of fact were asked if they wished to serve. Slightly more than twelve percent of Potentials did, as a matter of fact, refuse to be strong. Several of those Potentials have since then been sought out, with some killed but most lamed or blinded, and strangely enough no Bringers were involved in those actions and requests for addresses and such were brought by, surprisingly, Wolfram and Hart. Interestingly enough, in exchange for not bringing violence against the offices of Wolfram and Hart, Wolfram and Hart swore to abstain from interfering with the Slayer line. And interestingly it has been shown that those Potentials who at a later date do accept the Call, are still part of the line.”

Darius smiled. “The punishment for that is the release and delivery of equal numbers of Soul-sworn personnel of Wolfram and Hart, chosen by the Council or its legal successors, to the Council. A list of the personnel selected by the Council has been placed at the disposal of the Stone.”

He inclined his head towards the end of the table and there was another flash of light.

Hamilton swallowed, far more heavily this time.

“Which brings us to the claim on the souls and persons of Winifred Burkle, Charles Edward Booker Washington Gunn, Wesley Richard Fortescue Dampierre Wriothesley Wyndham-Pryce, Cordelia Catherine Cassandra Chase and Krevlornswath, also known as ‘Lorne’ of the Deathwok Clan, formerly of Pylea,” Darius flipped his folder open, glanced at a page, and closed it again. 

“According to your own list of soul-sworn, these people are not members of your staff. Which means that they are ordinary employees, who have stated that they are resigning, which under the terms of their contracts they can do with one month's notice. Miss Chase, of course, having been unconscious at the time of her supposed joining of the firm, could never have sworn her soul to the company. Not even Mr Angel, also known as Angelus and born Liam O'Connell, did sign his soul away, he negotiated his service for a period of time in exchange for the supposed safeguarding of his natural son, Mr Connor O'Connell. In spite of promises undertaken, Wolfram and Hart did not in fact create an irreversible manner in which this safeguarding was enacted, which in his case voids his contract.”

“All of which leads, by the way, to the resurrection of Ms Mary Jones, also known as Darla, which was claimed by your side as a right after the resurrection of Ms Buffy Summers, notwithstanding the fact that the Treaty provides for the return of Champions and Warriors of Light at a rate of one for every one hundred soul-sworn returned to embodiment and one for each Child or Chosen of the so-called Senior Partners empowered, without there being an effect on the so-called balance. The fine for this, in the section indicated earlier, is the delivery of a number of Children or Chosen double that of the resurrected champions, or the freedom to resurrect several willing champions without repercussions.”

Hamilton crushed the porcelain coffee cup he'd been holding.


	24. Chapter 24

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 24**

The problem with Willy’s Café and Boat House, ‘An exciting family fun filled activity on wonderful Sunnydale Bay', was that there were far too many humans there. This stopped Buffy from beating the slimy little skunk up, like he deserved. There were pictures on the wall of Sunnydale before the fall, of lots of people, things. 

There were beach tours that stated in not so many words that things might be found in certain places.

She made a mental note that after she'd beaten up Willy, somewhere that little kiddies wouldn't be seeing it, she'd have a word with the park wardens. There were signs that forbade picking up things that floated up from the sunken town and washed ashore. 

That Willy's tour-guides allowed, or hinted at allowing it, probably meant that someone, somewhere was getting kickbacks. And she wanted it stopped.

Willy saw them approach the bar, where alcoholic drinks were 'strictly monitored' and paled and gave them a sickly little smile and a wave and made for the back door. 

Buffy smiled like a shark. Willy reared back as he opened the door and came face to face with Faith, lounging against the wall outside, in a covered area between two wings of the building used for storing cutlery and other things for the large crowds who were enjoying the view and some 'classic Sunnydale' food and drink. 

“Hello Willy,” Buffy pushed behind the bar, ignoring the half demon who tried to block her. She then herded Willy outside and Willow closed the door behind them.

“Slayer,” Willy tried to muster a smile that was more convincing than the one he'd managed before. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“An amazing coincidence,” Buffy agreed. “Very lucky for you, too.”

“Oh?” Willy looked very cautious all of a sudden.

“Yeah, if I'd found out about the sort of thing you're doing here a bit later, or when my mood was just, like, a little bit worse, you so would have been totally dead,” Buffy said cheerfully. “In one of many totally painfully and creative ways.”

Willy let out a bleat. “Slayer! There's kids about!”

Buffy craned her head around a white-washed wall and looked at the beach full of children, and their parents sitting on the sea-side terrace that was part of the 'Whole Sunnydale Experience' according to Willy's sign. According to Willy's sign a 'Classic Espresso Pump' milkshake cost fifteen bucks, too.

“Nice cushy set up you have here, Willy,” Willow smiled. “I'm sure that we can come to an equitable agreement on how to run the place.”

“It's just a nice day out for the kids from LA,” Willy complained. 

“And do their parents know their kids are swimming in the ocean with, like thousands of freshly buried corpses floating around?” Buffy growled, grabbing the little man by the shirt and ramming him against the wall. “People like my mom?”

Willy gulped. “I'm just a small business man, trying to make an honest living!”

“Let's talk about that, too,” Willow nodded. “Like, how many things you've been fishing out of the bay and not handing in? And letting people fish out and pick up?”

“Can't stop people from walking the beach,” Willy pointed out. “It's a free country.”

“But they're not allowed to pick up personal items,” Buffy tightened her grip. “Those are supposed to go into the depot.”

Willy raised his hands in a deprecating 'what can you do' gesture. “People will be people, slayer. They want souvenirs. I try to get them to pay for mine, but they really like picking up their own.”

“Uh-huh,” Buffy nodded. “I see. I also see that there's a lot of violence in your future.”

Willy gulped and paled a little more. “Now, Slayer, I’m sure we can talk about this!”

“There's gonna be violence in your future anyway,” Faith said. “Seeing as how B is about ready to use your head for baseball practice. But we've got some questions and if you can answer those, we may try and stop her before she does anything too maiming.”

Willy whimpered. “I told you already, I'm just a small, honest businessman! I don't do stuff like that anymore!”

“Willy, there are many things I believe in, vampires, demons, magic, some sort of Santa Claus and I'm getting there even on leprechauns,” Buffy shook her head. “But that isn't one. Okay. Have you seen or heard anything about Amy Madison or Andrew Wells in the neighbourhood?”

Willy met her gaze, but for no longer than a second. “Look, Slayer, Wells told me I could run my business if I gave you a cut. You can't just come in here and up the demands.”

“Well, I've got news for you, Willy. Andrew doesn't work for us anymore. He never really did, and you know we wouldn’t have sullied our memories for a few lousy bucks. So, talk,” Buffy put a little pressure on his throat.

“They took a diving boat!” Willy bleated. “That's all I know. Some big shot guy from LA paid for it, and got the licenses and everything. They went down over the pit of the old high school, and then over what I think was Madison's old house and then Peaceful Acres. That's all I know, I swear!”

“When was this, Willy?” Buffy asked in a dangerous voice. Or at least more dangerous, though to Willy that hardly seemed possible.

“Coupla months ago? Three, four? Wells said he was here on your orders,” Willy whimpered.

“And you didn't think to look deeper when it wasn't us doing the arranging, but some guy in LA?” Willow twitched her hand.

“Look, it was to do with Wolfram and Hart, and everybody knows that Angel took that over and that he's on your leash,” Willy pleaded. “I thought they were doing something for you!”

“That actually makes kinda sense, from his point of view,” Willow looked at Buffy. 

“Did they get anything?” Buffy scraped Willy higher up the wall. 

Willy groaned. “I think they got some stuff, but it was all in bags and boxes when they got back to shore. I couldn't see nothing, they packed everything behind screens on the boat.”

“So you were spying on someone you thought worked for us?” Buffy's voice was icy.

Willy whimpered. He was looking around frantically, eyes wide. 

“Okay, I think we've got everything he can tell us,” Willow put a hand on Buffy's arm. 

Buffy growled and let Willy drop. “We'll be sending someone to talk to you later, Willy. About lots of things.”

“Actually I think that I'll have a word with him later,” Richie said from behind them. 

Willy gulped. “Err...”

“I'm Richard Ryan,” Richie held out his hand. “I just sent a picture of you to Duncan McLeod.”

Willy looked at the hand as if it was a snake and paled back to the shade he'd been when Buffy started threatening him. “Now kid, you don't want to believe everything that guy tells you.”

“Oh, if I even believe half of it, you still deserve a bit of a challenge,” Richie smiled. “Duncan taught me well.”

“Huh,” Buffy looked at the gibbering Willy. “What'd he do?”

“Slave dealer. Long, long after it was forbidden. Mac last caught him at it twenty years ago, but he got away,” Richie said. “Lots of other stuff, very nasty, according to Mac. He probably went to earth here because we don't come to places like Sunnydale and it's hard to sense people here.”

“He probably hoped that the residue would keep others away,” Willow frowned. 

Richie smiled at Willy again. “I'd advise you not to run. There's worse people you might meet than me. They'd start with cutting other stuff off first.”

Willy gulped.


	25. Chapter 25

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 25**

“So, can we watch you make Willy even shorter?” Buffy asked. They were gathered in a group in one of the huts Willy rented out, the junior Slayers having left to find more food and some exercise, leaving the core Scoobies, Faith, Adam and Richie.

“You want to see a guy getting beheaded?” Richie asked in disbelief.

“When in doubt, cut off its head,” Buffy shrugged. “And he asked me to pose nude and always was a bit too sleazy and now he's making money selling people's bones that wash up on the beach.”

“Yeah, but still,” Richie shook her head. “Also, it might be against the rules. I don't know. Normally mortals are to be kept away, but you know about it. Adam? You read a lot about this sort of thing, right?”

“Considering that McLeod beheads tons of Immortals when mortals in the know are watching, I'm sure we can find a loophole,” Adam said dryly. “Only one I'm really aware of is the injunction against fighting on holy ground. And there was a lot of that in and around Sunnydale, so check carefully.”

“How do you do that?” Faith asked.

“Sort of dowsing, with your sword,” Richie told her. “Some really old guy taught me that, Mac didn't know the trick.”

“There's spells too, but I don't know if all Immortals can do magic,” Willow added. “Though some certainly can.”

“So why do you guys fight?” Faith asked. “I mean, I read about that prize thing, but what is it? A big belt and a heap of money?”

Adam snorted. Richie laughed. “I don't know. Mac says he thinks it’s the spirit to move people, but Mac is kinda, well, not a big philosopher.”

“Translated that means he needs someone to do his heavy thinking for him,” Adam winked at Buffy. “Once again, your sister should be ideal.”

Buffy laughed. “As long as it isn't supposed to be wisdom. Isn't there anything about this sort of thing in the stuff you studied? All of it is really old, right, to study Methos?”

“Actually I spent a lot of time reading relatively modern things as well, trying to find him,” Adam shrugged. “But I did come across some interesting facts.”

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. “I'm sure you did. So, anything about the Prize?”

“We know Methos lived because he wrote some journals of his own. He speculates on the nature of the Game from the earliest known ones onwards, especially in some he wrote in about 1000 BCE. He refers to Egyptian texts from pre-dynastic times and tablets kept in the oldest archives in the lands of the Euphrates and Tigris river, and he mentions that he feels that the power of the gods are supposed to fill the winner of the Game,” Adam replied. 

Buffy’s brow wrinkled. “Huh. Power of a God. Might have been useful against Glory. 

“Well, there's some really old texts, older than a lot of human writing, which mention the struggle for the Honour of the Vessel. I only ran into them once I was allowed into the Senior Council Archives. I don't like it,” Adam said airily. 

“Why not?” Richie asked. “Vessel for power, sounds kinda cool.”

“A vessel has very little say over what it contains. The literal translation, as close as I can make it, is 'to craft a vessel strong enough to bear the honour’,” Adam added. “And this is not something that should leave this room. Either way, there's far too many Immortals who want a taste of godhood. They don't need that encouragement to take heads.”

Richie grimaced. “Hell, no.”

He rose. “I need to get some air.”

“You think that's all true?” Willow asked.

“I don't know. I know that Immortals have been around for a very long time,” Adam admitted. “But I don't like the idea of being ruled over by some head hunter driven insane by ultimate power.”

“You really, really suck at happy stories,” Buffy muttered.

Adam smiled at her. “It's a gift.”

***********************************************************

Adam caught up with Richie as the young Immortal was walking the beach, morosely kicking bits of washed up debris. 

“Hey,” Richie said. “Back to torment me some more with existential shit?”

“All good shit is existential,” Adam replied seriously. “It is very present and very useful. Anyone who would deny that Being is Truth should be told to live next to a dung heap for a while. And learn to farm.”

Richie had to laugh. Then he looked out over the water, rubbing his neck.. 

“How's the bite?” Adam asked, quietly, well out of reach of any Slayer hearing. “They can take a while even for us to heal. I think there's something on their teeth.”

Richie glared at him. “You could have told me about vampires before I got bitten.”

“Mac never met any for four hundred years, not even after Ahriman, in spite of all his noble boy scout behaviour, running into dark alleys to save damsels in distress. I never expected you to do it run into demons so quickly,” Adam looked at him thoughtfully. “Then again, you always were a precocious lad.”

Richie snorted. “Yeah sure.”

“It could have been worse,” Adam said.

“Yeah, at least I woke up again.”

“There was a government organisation here a few years that dealt with the Supernatural,” Adam looked him in the eye. “That could have gone very badly.”

Richie shivered at his bleak look. “Yeah. I’m sure it could have.”

“I hate taking those Quickenings,” Adam seemed to be talking to himself now, his eyes dark and stormy.

Richie gulped. “They actually had…”

“Two. You didn’t know them. I knew them, or of them. They no longer knew me, or of me,” Adam shook his head. “Just a reminder that demons may kill you, wizards want you for components, but mortal men will seek your secret and kill you for it.”

“Are you this cheerful around Buffy, too?” Richie glared

“Why should I be cheerful around Buffy Summers?” Adam asked.

Richie lifted an eyebrow in imitation of him. “That girl looks at you like a dog does a bone. And don’t deny you’re interested.”

“I may be interested, but I come with a lot of baggage, more even than her,” Adam shrugged. “Which considering how she packs, is saying something.”

“Don't you ever take anything seriously?” Richie asked.

“I take a great many things seriously, Richie. I just don't act that way,” Adam said, straight-faced. “So, why the sudden urge to kill bartenders. Should I warn Joe?”

“In the first place he's a sleazebag. And I sensed him, just like you did and I sent his picture to Mac. Apparently he likes children,” Richie said darkly.

“As in, when he was younger the age of consent was a non-existent thing, or he still likes ten year olds?” Adam asked. “And was it chattel slavery or did he run a sweat shop for clothes in Bangladesh?”

Richie blinked. “Ummm...”

“Ask,” Adam shook his head. “Mac tends to forget that times were different. He may be an unethical piece of scum, thriving on the suffering of others, I've done far worse and so has Mac. And I'm very strongly convinced we should only be killing the ones who still are complete bastards.”

“Yes, Adam,” Richie said, abashed.

“That does not of course preclude you teaching him a lesson,” Adam smiled. 

“Why don't you do it?”

“I prefer not to show that I am, in fact, Immortal,” Adam admitted.

“You haven't even told her that? Man, she's really going to kick your butt six ways from Sundays,” Richie shook his head. Then he drew his phone and dialled. “Mac? Richie. Look, I need to know when this guy was a piece of scum and what he did. Yeah, yeah. Uh-huh. Okay, that's pretty horrible.”

He hung up. “Mac says that he was an active pederast in the seventies, was a real enslaver and fled from him to some place he couldn't find him.”

“I see. Well, try not to learn anything disgusting from him when you take his Quickening,” Adam sighed. “I need to think.”

“About?” Richie asked.

“How to end the Game, before someone wins,” Adam said. 

“I know you want to live forever, but isn't that the whole goal of our existence?” Richie asked. “And hopefully get someone who can do some real good?” 

“We have a larger chance of it being some murderous beast. Most headhunters aren't very nice, and they're more likely to win, by sheer number of heads they take,” Adam pointed out. 

“Buffy's right,” Richie sighed. “You just don't do happy stories. Do you do happy endings, at least?”

Adam didn't reply.

****************************************************** 

Faith walked up to Richie as the young man walked up the hill where he was supposed to meet Willy. “Hey.”

“Hello Faith,” he smiled. 

“I know some things about him, I only put them together when I found out he was like you. And well, when I found out people like you exist,” Faith said quietly.

“What?” Richie asked.

“There was a guy in Sunnydale. He wasn't a nice man, but he was good to me,” she looked away as she said it, looking around to see if anyone heard her speak. “But he warned me away from Willy. And he didn't do that with just anybody.' 

Richie nodded. “I know. Mac confirmed he was raping little kids in the seventies.”

“Yeah, things like that. He had something that the guy... The Mayor needed. But he didn't like it. So get his head.”

Richie grimaced. “Not the kind of Quickening I want.”

“Yeah. I can imagine having scum like that living on inside you ain't easy,” Faith patted his shoulder. “On the other hand, if you do it properly, you might be in for a reward.”

“We don’t tend to take the severed heads of our enemies to the police,” Richie said. “At least not anymore.”

“That wasn't what I was thinking about in the way of reward,” Faith smirked.

“I know,” Richie grinned. “But I think you'll find it will be a fair exchange.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 26**

“So, we didn't get anything out of that except that Faith got her itch scratched,” Buffy said. “That was the most disappointing fight ever, the guy clearly had no idea how to use that sword.” 

Faith grinned. “That ain’t nothing, B, that was some damn fine scratching that was. Not disappointin’ on that score, ‘cause it was some score!”

Buffy sent her a glare. 

“Ain't my fault that you haven't been getting' any. You should just tie Adam down and have your way with him, so's he can't run away,” Faith leered.

Buffy sighed. “As I totally said before, and will totally say again, I'm not gonna be dating Adam and like, not at all tying him down.”

“Uh-huh,” Faith nodded. “Su-re. But what do we do now?”

“We still need to find Amy and Andrew. The most likely place they are is where their patron is,” Willow said. “I don't think they can do the Isis theurgy thing without him.”

“I think they're gonna try,” Xander remarked. “I mean, they screwed us over, I'm pretty sure that they think they can do the same with that Vail guy.”

Buffy looked at him. “Yeah. That kinda makes sense. They’re totally with the treachery.”

“And I don’t see Amy as someone good at sharing power. Andrew may be a follower, but I’m pretty sure from what I heard of this Vail guy, he’d prefer to follow Amy rather than Vail,” Xander continued.

“And he probably wants to do things that Vail wouldn’t consider important,” Willow added. 

“Like creating a Princess Leia clone and playing with her all day,” Xander said.

Everyone looked at him. 

“It’s totally something that Andrew would do,” Xander said defensively. 

“The worry is that you thought of it, too,” Willow patted his arm. “But I’m not sure. I think Han is more likely.” 

“Okay, so where would they go?” Buffy asked. “And would they know a way to, you know, not let Giles die of poison?”

“The poison is probably a lot older than they are, and we don’t know what it is,” Willow said. “So we need something that the Isis cult wrote, and we know that they probably have some stuff on it, even if we don’t know where they are.”

“Would Vail keep an eye on them?” Buffy sat back. “Or is he, like, one of those bad guys who can’t imagine anyone would be foolish enough to cross him or something?”

“I read him that way,” Willow poured herself a cup of tea. “I called Fred-”

Xander and Buffy let out sniggers. “Sure you did,” Buffy nodded.

“To ask her if Cordelia had Seen anything,” Willow finished with as much dignity as she could while blushing fiercely. 

“Didn’t know you and Fred had been up to anything worth seeing yet, Will,” Buffy teased.

Willow glared at her. “With her Seer powers. Evil bad things.”

“Had she?” Xander asked, grinning as widely as Buffy. “Or were they good things?”

“Some stuff to do with things in LA. Nothing on this,” Willow said, moving her glare. “I hate not knowing what they’re up to.”

“Yeah, me too,” Buffy admitted. “So, where did these guys use to hang out? We took out Rome and St Petersburg, but they were big in ancient times, right? Where would they have a big temple?”

Willow pursed her lips. “Alexandria or Istanbul. Maybe Paris, but a smaller Italian city today might have had far more Isis worshippers back in the day. Athens is possible, too.”

“London had a Mithras temple, right?” Buffy asked. “Could they have had one for Isis?”

Willow blinked at her. “How do you know that?”

“Something Adam mentioned,” Buffy shrugged.

“We’ll look into it,” Willow promised.

“In the meantime, I think we’ve done everything we can here,” Buffy looked around the rather emptier Willy’s Café, grimly satisfied. There was a large notice up warning against picking up things from the beach that might be personal possessions. 

“Yeah,” Xander agreed. “This place is depressing. Let’s go to LA, see what Darius has been up to. And Willow can ask Fred if she thinks Cordy saw anything.”

“Shut up,” Willow grumbled. “And how do we get there, back of Faith’s bike? That stupid Quickening thing took out our rental.”

“Adam says he had cousin with a car in storage near here, but there’s not much room. So he called some rental company,” Buffy said. “It should be here soon.”

“Not much room? As in, two seats?” Willow asked.

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded. “It’s pretty old too, so he says.”

Xander and Willow exchanged looks. “Uh-huh.”

**************************************************************

Xander whimpered as the engine of the classic car roared. Adam was in it, one arm on the door and looking at Buffy and it was, well, glorious. The car, not Adam. He was leaving obliviously lusting after Adam to Buffy. She was astonishingly good at it after all. He'd just lust after the car.

“Crap, I’m jealous,” he said to Willow. 

Faith stood with her arms crossed. “Okay, what is it with Watchers and midlife crisis mobiles? And ain't he too young for one? And that thing looks like a banana.”

“This one’s way nicer than Giles’,” Xander shook his head. “Even with the colour.”

“Very noticeable colour,” Willow agreed. “Also Faith, your boyfriend has a Harley, and yours is just as bad.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Faith muttered.

“So the exchange of sweet nothings is, like, completely usual for you?” Willow asked sweetly.

Faith glared. “Shut up, Red, or I'll tell Fred what you were doing last night thinking of her.”

Willow blushed. 

Buffy was smiling a little at Adam, looking down at him. “An old, two-seater car. This wasn't, like, what I was expecting.”

“I live to surprise people,” Adam replied.

“I thought you lived to drink beer?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah, that too, but not when driving,” Adam said. “So, are you getting in? I'm sure we can fit at least one of your shoe boxes in here.”

“I only brought a carry-on bag,” Buffy said. 

“Ah, I see. It's on the way back that we'll need U-haul,” Adam got out of the car and stowed her small suitcase next to his. 

“I thought you drove a Fiat?” Buffy asked as she got into the car. “Not that I'm complaining.”

Adam closed the booth and got back in and affectionately patted the steering wheel of the Bahama Yellow Aston Martin DBS.

“It belonged to a friend of the family, until he got shot by some people he was supposed to be bringing to justice.” 

“He was a cop?” Buffy looked at the soft leather interior and the immaculate make. “Yeah, right.”

“More like a vigilante, but one with style. His name was Brett, he was a Lord, Lord Sinclair.” 

“Hey, I heard about him. Him and Danny Wilde took on the Mob, and sorta won, and a lot of blackmailers and stuff,” Xander said. “He was a pretty cool guy.”

“Oh!” Willow looked shocked. “He was a Watcher too.”

“That doesn't sound like he was too particular about what justice he was pursuing,” Buffy frowned.

“Who do you think he was trying to bring to justice?” Adam sounded rather bitter. “Not all the Watchers who didn't pass the Council's 'little tests' were allowed to live.”

“Giles was,” Buffy pointed out.

“Travers was nothing if not practical. Would you have left Wesley in charge of guiding the Slayer on the Hellmouth during apocalypse season?” Adam shook his head. “He counted on Rupert staying, either out of duty to the world, or duty, love, affection for you. Appointing Wesley was a sop to his father's faction.”

“How do you know that?” Buffy asked.

“I asked Wesley, of course. He may have been an idiot, but he was an idiot with inside information,” Adam replied. “Well. Your rental will be here soon,” he grinned at Xander. “Try not to lose your engine at Oxnard.”

“HEY!” Xander called out as the car sped away, scattering the white pebbles of the parking lot and trailing peals of Buffy's laughter. 

Faith laughed. “Got you there, Xander.”

“Who told him that?” Xander looked around. “How much did they tell?”

“You mean there's more to tell than that your engine fell out of your car and you spent the Summer washing dishes?” Willow asked innocently.

“Revenge will be mine,” Xander muttered. “Revenge!”

“The Revenge of Zorro,” Willow agreed, with an impish smile. 

**End note:**

**The Bahama yellow Aston Martin DBS belonged to Lord Sinclair, of** [ **The Persuaders!** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Persuaders!) **fame.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 27**

The Hyperion Hotel was undergoing some sort of renovations, overseen by Cordelia, who still utterly refused to come near the Wolfram and Hart building. Except maybe with a few tons of TNT, and a rocket launcher.

Apparently somehow there had been an influx of money that could be used to fix at least the worst of the problems with bad floors and leaky roofs. Though the much desired renovations of the bathrooms would have to wait a while.

Darius was eating white bread, cheese and drinking a cup of wine.

“I thought you were supposed to be an ascetic monk?” Buffy asked, sitting down. “That's one lovely smelling cheese.”

“It is. And I am. However, in France this would not be considered an exceptional meal, rather the contrary. And it is this or Miss Chase's cooking.”

“I heard that, bathrobe boy!” Cordelia called out.

Buffy chuckled. “Well, if anyone can handle Queen C and her cooking, it should be you. So...”

“Yes?” Darius lifted an eyebrow and cut some cheese and offered it to her.

Buffy accepted it. “So, you were dead. And now you're not.”

“Which I understand was what happened to you,” Darius nodded. “However, I cannot say that I have memories of the time I was dead, unlike, apparently, yourself.”

“You don't?” Buffy held the cheese, ready to bite, suddenly still.

“No. I had a feeling of waiting. I was also not raised from my grave, rather I found myself alive again in the Deeper Well.”

“Oh, crap,” Buffy muttered. “That kinda proves something that Adam said,” she added, seeing Darius's quizzical expression. “He’s an eternal student.”

“Ah. A person of sagacity,” Darius nodded. “I'm sure he has many wise things to say. And even more that aren't.”

Buffy laughed and took the cheese in her mouth, letting the soft, creamy flavour dissolve. “Almost like you know him.”

“I've known many students over the years, and many scholars,” Darius cut her another slice of cheese, and one for himself.

“So you don't feel a need to talk, you know, about coming back?” Buffy asked.

“No, but I gladly offer to listen to you. I've been told I am a very good listener, and a spiritual advisor to be valued,” Darius said without pride.

“Who said that?” Buffy smiled. “Napoleon?”

“Charlemagne,” Darius smiled back. 

“Huh,” Buffy shook her head. “Well. How goes the thing with the Stone?”

“Wolfram and Hart have not needed to mount a case before the Stone in centuries,” Darius said with a slight smile. “They've clearly lost the knack for it.”

“Did a lot of that happen, before?” She asked curiously.

“Certainly not after the Watchers' Council lost its copy of the Accords,” Darius said. “That meant that they lost their standing before the Stone. Of course, even before then it rarely happened more than once a century. The training is quite long and difficult, and few apparently were given that training, while with the methods of Wolfram and Hart their advocates got ever better. They after all, tend to live longer.”

“So how did they lose something that important?” Buffy frowned. 

“Like most of these things, treachery and venality,” Darius' mouth turned down. “Wolfram and Hart has had a great deal of money for a very long time, and they do offer eternal life, of a sort. Like Mr Sirk, many before him found the notion attractive. Or a shorter life with a great deal of money and other… amenities.”

“Okay. So what can we gain?” Buffy asked. “Or is it more something like, we don't lose anything?”

“Well, they certainly wanted to move against your young Slayers and the uncalled Potentials and destroy all of them, using various means, from manipulating the government to evils similar to Ahriman and I put a stop to that,” Darius popped a bit of cheese in his mouth.

Buffy bent the spoon she'd been playing with. “Yeah. Yeah, that's a win.”

“They'll be able to maintain their operations at the current level, though they will have to give up numbers of current personnel,” Darius serene visage was marred by a frown. “I am in two minds about that. It will liberate the souls of a great many people from the grasp of Wolfram and Hart...”

“But they aren't nice people,” Buffy finished. “Any worth saving?”

“We won’t know until we speak with them,” Darius folded his hands. “Some, maybe.”

“And the rest?” Buffy asked.

“That is where my doubts come in,” Darius admitted. 

“Because if we let them go, they might go back, or do damage on their own,” Buffy said. “And you would feel pretty bad handing them over to us and us cutting their heads off.”

“Exactly,” Darius nodded. “Well summarised. I could spend a considerable time with them, but I doubt many of them would be swayed. They voluntarily, knowingly and intelligently chose their path. And yet I believe in the redemption of the soul.” 

“Yeah, I can see how that would be a damper on your spirits. Is a bunch of crooked lawyers the only thing we can ask for in recompense?”

Darius shook his head. “No. Basically you can ask for anything in reparation, but you have to know what to ask for. Also you’ll be getting considerable amounts of money.”

“So we can get the books back, and the artefacts we know they took and get Sirk? I’m sorry, we do want Sirk, he betrayed the Watchers’ Council, and W&H took down three Slayers with his knowledge,” her face was hard.

“Yes,” Darius said. “I can understand your anger, though I would plead I’d be allowed to talk to him first.”

“He’d have to be very penitent before we let him live, let alone back in,” Buffy shook her head. “Or even not just cut his head off as soon as we see him. He caused a lot of death, grief and destruction.”

Darius inclined his head. “I shall render unto Caesar.”

“Hmm, well, anyway, I'll see if we can find out some things they took we definitely want back,” Buffy mused. “I'd rather have that than a bunch of murderous lawyers. Will you be okay, by the way? They won’t come after you? You’re the only Advocate on our side, and only an Advocate can train another, right?”

“Yes, I would make a tempting target. It's possible the Hunters that came for me were sent by them, or at least 'arranged'. However, numbers of people have stated they will keep me safe, even if I am too dumb to defend myself,” Darius smiled. “I think I'll let them.”

“You don't feel bad about causing the deaths of some of Wolfram and Hart's people? I mean, Hokey, Ramsbottom and Bambi are not going to be happy with their underlings’ failure.”

Darius’ mouth turned down. “Many of them are no longer people, their souls given over to true evil long ago. Few mortals have fallen so deeply. And besides, I long ago gave up feeling guilt for the actions of others on which I had no influence. It is highly unlikely that any of these people will be truly slain, though their stay in the Wolf, Ram and Hart’s torture dimension is not going to be pleasant. It is also due to their own choice.”

“You have a talent for understatement,” Buffy smiled at him. “So how do you feel about vampires and other demons?”

“I feel no mercy for vampires. I may tolerate Angel, since he does seem to know remorse, but in all my years I was never able to do what you did and convince a vampire to join the side of the Light,” Darius admitted. “I had hoped to destroy Drusilla before her body did more harm, and to destroy Angelus and Darla before they did as well. However I was distracted and lost the trail.”

“You would have fought them?” Buffy asked, startled.

“I would have found some Watchers or others to aid me,” Darius said. “I don't usually take an active role in such things, but I had met Drusilla, been the priest in the monastery she came to, and she was a very dear, pure child. I took what Angelus did to her very personally.”

For a second Buffy could see in his face not fifteen hundred years of the most saintly life in the world, but the implacable will of a tyrant who had set out to conquer the world, after breaking it, to remake it more easily in his image.

She nodded. “You’re not alone. Giles never forgave me for what Angelus did to Jenny, I think.”

“Jenny?” Darius asked. 

“Yeah,” Buffy took a deep breath. “I was gonna tell Sean, but he told me that you’re pretty good at listening. Would you mind?”

Darius shook his head. “I never got any degrees in psychology and psychiatry like Sean did, however.”

Buffy began her story. Darius listened.

************************************************************

At the end of the tale, he was frowning. “Hmmm.”

“Is that a ‘You were a foolish girl and you deserve to be spanked’ hmm, a ‘You deserve your head chopped off, you silly chit’ or ‘You poor thing hmm’?”

“Well, not the second, and I’ll leave the first to someone else. No, I was merely wondering what sort of pressure might make a man like Mr Giles as you described him, become the man he now is,” Darius pursed his lips. 

“Other than me getting the woman he loved killed?” Buffy said bitterly. Though she did wonder who he had in mind to spank her. It wasn't like she was involved with anyone. 

“A lot of people die on Hellmouths. Sadly there is no guarantee Ms Calendar would have lived regardless,” Darius pointed out. 

“Yeah, sure,” Buffy muttered. “He even asked me to help her when he thought he was dying.”

Darius eyes widened a tiny fraction. “Hmmm.”

“That’s very annoying you know. Almost as annoying as Adam’s habit of telling really depressing stories,” Buffy complained.

“I think it might be wise to see if we cannot find out where Ms Calendar’s soul resides,” Darius said. “The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart do not only manage to latch on to the souls of the guilty. And yet, maybe a little digging into her past.” 

“Don’t bother,” a bored British accented voice told them. “They got their hooks into her at college.”

Buffy growled. “Ethan Rayne,” in a tone of voice that might as well have said 'Evil bastard.' “What are you doing here?”

Ethan looked tired, worn. “I have one mate left in the world, kid, and I’ve been trying to save him from the deal he did with the devil for his lady’s soul for a couple of years now. And if you want to kill me, fine, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea what you need. Your little red witch is very powerful, but I have decades of knowledge on her. Recent knowledge,” he inclined his head at Darius.

Buffy leaned back. “Talk. If you manage to tell me things that I find useful, I may even let you live.”

“Generosity itself,” Ethan muttered. “Okay. Bring in your little friends, I don’t want to tell this more than once, Ripper isn’t going to last much longer and your old classmates have a fair head start.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 28**

“London,” Buffy looked around distastefully. “Home of the Tweed.”

“Actually the source of the Tweed is in Scotland,” Adam said helpfully. 

Buffy glared at him while Willow hid a grin and Xander laughed. 

“I meant the fabric,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Scotland again,” Adam shook his head. 

“Those Scots have a lot to answer for,” Xander added with a grin at Buffy.

Buffy took a step forward and poked Adam in the chest. “You are not being nearly as funny as you think you are.”

“Funny? I’m merely trying to expand your horizons,” Adam said piously.

“Can we get on with this?” Ethan had the collar of his coat up. “Ripper’s not getting any closer to not dying, you know.”

“Neither are you,” Buffy said sweetly. “How many people got killed or injured by your little stunts?”

“As few as possible,” Ethan replied. “Which means none. No bigger chaos than remembering doing something you’d never do. That’s why so many chaos gods are patrons of drink.”

“So where do we need to go?” Xander asked, pointedly ignoring Ethan, and hoping to distract Buffy at least for a bit so she wouldn’t kill Ethan, though he felt the urge himself.

“There are several possibilities,” Adam said, “The temple of Mithras, another mystery cult which had its dark and corrupted version, was over on Walbrook, but it was moved after it was discovered. It's possible that the Cult of Isis maintained a temple near there, and the Dark one might be close, as it was to the one in Rome.”

“Or, let me guess, it's in a completely different place?” Xander asked.

“I know where it is,” Ethan said.

“I thought you didn't like to associate with such a structured way of looking at life?” Willow said rather acidly.

“Eyghon was a being of borders, sleep, and some say he was worshipped in Ancient Egypt, as a servitor of Isis, but since he was also known as a being of evil, the cults of Isis and Osiris would shun him,” Adam said. “But the corrupt cult would no doubt embrace him. Which leads me to assume that her Dark Temple is where you found the Ritual of Eyghon you used, especially since it was a corrupt one. The local priesthood in a relative backwater like Londinium might not be too accurate in their knowledge of Egyptian. And of course the lot of you were morons way in over your head.”

Ethan glared at him. “Shut it, kid.”

“Don't even think about threatening him,” Buffy warned. “Or harming him. Or you'll suffer.”

“Not going to threaten to kill me, Slayer?” Ethan smirked. 

“Oh, yes. Just that it wouldn't be quick if you hurt him, or anyone else,” Buffy said in a cool, matter of fact tone. 

Ethan grinned, but it was rather sickly. “Right. It's this way.”

***********************************************************

“Is it me, or is this place even damper than the one in Russia?” Buffy complained.

“I think it is,” Xander looked at the walls, which were bulging rather disturbingly. 

“It's older, I think,” Willow shivered as a drop of cold water struck her head. 

“Hmmm,” Adam nodded. “This was built during the Roman era. Of course it wasn't as deep underground then, if it was underground at all, and a lot of digging has been going on in London since then, with canalisation, sewers, utilities and the Tube.”

“Handy for the Tube wasn't a reason why they picked the spot,” Ethan said. “Marshy area around the delta of one of London’s rivers as it flows into the Thames.”

“More the Queen of the Marsh than the Queen Mother here then,” Willow grimaced. “Why?”

Ethan grinned. “Well, not here, it isn’t.”

“What?”

“This is the Tyburn delta, or at least, we’re below it. Above us is Buckingham Place, home of Dear Lizzie, our Gracious Queen,” Ethan said mockingly.

Buffy smacked him. “Stop that. She was nice. She complimented my shoes.”

“She complimented your shoes? The woman has reigned for decades can command armies and whole legions will jump to her defence and you like her because she complimented your shoes?” Ethan sounded shocked and a little disgusted. 

“Well, they were pretty nifty,” Buffy said defensively.

“So that’s the way for demons to survive, compliment your shoes,” Adam nodded. “We shall have to make sure knowledge of the weakness does not get around.”

“You’ve never complimented my shoes,” Buffy pointed a finger at him threateningly.

“Well, then let me be the first to say that thigh-high green rubber Wellies look really good on you,” Adam said dryly.

Willow grinned as Buffy pouted. “Okay, I’m pretty sure the Queen didn’t live here two thousand years ago. Probably none of her ancestors, either. So what was the reason then?”

“Her ancestors were mainly German,” Ethan replied. “And the reason was frogs.”

Willow squeaked. “Frogs?”

“Frogs,” Ethan repeated with relish.

“Are you joking?” Buffy demanded. “It you are, I'll gut you just enough to hurt, but not enough to kill you.”

“Can’t you contain her violent tendencies?” Ethan demanded of Adam.

“I might, if I see reason to,” Adam raised one eyebrow. “I just see reason to encourage her to be more creative.”

“Barbarians,” Ethan muttered. “No, not a joke. Look, waterfowl were symbolic of the air and the sun, because they rose from the water, symbols of light and power. Frogs are beings of water and earth, living in both. Only, they were kinda interpreted the other way.”

“So birds, good, frogs bad?” Xander asked. 

“Frogs bad!” Willow agreed.

“Frogs… liminal the other way,” Ethan said after some thought. “They understood you needed earth and water too, as well as the sun. And that the sun could burn the crops if there was no rain. But there was a tribe of Gogote demons living here and after they got killed by a Slayer, people saw it as a sacred place and it stayed that way until the Isis cult showed up.”

“You know a lot about it,” Xander frowned. 

“They wrote about it on some rocks,” Ethan shrugged. “Ripper always was curious.”

“Giles was down here?” Buffy looked around. 

“No, I made rubbings. I wanted to know if anything down there was worth nicking,” Ethan grinned at her. “He told me only if I wanted to walk around for a very short time as a putrid mass of maggot infested flesh and then die in agony. Did get a couple of nice books though.” 

“No doubt,” Adam said, as the chaos mage led the way down another hidden trap door in the ancient sewer. “This is quite below Bazalgette’s levels.”

“London’s been built on London for donkey’s years,” Ethan said. “But a lot of the good stuff was destroyed by later digging. Here we are.”

“Who made sure they could still get in here?” Xander wanted to know.

“Mostly toshers, back in the day when there were still scavengers in the sewers. And demons, of course. Most don’t know this is down here as well,” Ethan jumped up, grabbed a bracket high on the wall and, with a grating noise, a door opened in the rough masonry. A putrid smell struck their noses. “Great thing about London, so wet the Mummies don’t last any time at all,” Ethan grinned.

Willow had covered her nose and mouth with a hastily applied handkerchief. “Aren’t we lucky.”

“Yeah, actually we are. The guys who were active here in the nineteenth century built up a huge number of them and most of them are basically Thames mud,” Ethan said. 

“You'd think they'd find a way to deal with that, keep them around for longer,” Xander shook his head.

“The cult was mostly focussed on other things,” Adam explained. “Also they felt that things like that were too much like zombies, and zombies were for declassé people who did things with voodoo.”

“The horror,” Xander said dryly. “So what can we expect here?”

“Not much, the Watchers' Council came down on these guys like a ton of bricks in the Seventeenth, Eighteenth and early Nineteenth century. They mostly left the place here to lure in new cultists and deal with the build-up of mummies,” Adam shrugged. 

“How do you know that and not where it was?” Buffy frowned.

“I don't,” Adam pointed at a piece of graffiti. “But that rather tells me.”

“Never noticed that before,” Ethan murmured. “Huh.”

“Ferdinando Travers was here. Ira Travers was here. Ezekiel Travers was here. Ferdinando?” Buffy looked at Adam after deciphering the last name. “Doesn't sound very British.”

“One of the major investors in the earliest American Plantations was a man called Ferdinando Gorges, who had Portuguese ancestry,” Adam shrugged. “There was a lot of that going on back then.”

“Now, too,” Willow nodded. “Hey, I think we're getting to the half-moon place.”

Ethan nodded. “Yeah. The Temple, or sanctum, or whatever, is that way. The floor has a trapdoor that leads to the library.”

They entered carefully. “Why would they pick London?” Xander asked.

“No Isis temples to speak of in America. And they speak English here,” Adam said.

Xander nodded. “Anything left in the library?” 

“No, it was all flooded out last time,” Ethan said. “And the Council took all of them, I'd say. I got mine from that sarcophagus thing here,” he pointed at a large, opened one. The bright colours had run and faded and it was clear it was mostly lath and plaster and that neither had stood up well to the humid conditions. “Wrapped in oiled leather and stuffed in a soldered tin box.”

“What happened to them?” Willow frowned. 

“Council took 'em, when Ripper ran to his Gran.”

“After Eyghon nearly ate you, you mean?” Xander said sweetly. “Pity it was only nearly.”

“Yeah, that. Look, are we goin' to go in?” 

“I can hear chanting,” Buffy stood near the doors, head tilted and listening. “Think it opens the same way?”

“I never got in,” Ethan cautioned. “I have no idea how to get in, or what's on the other side.”

Buffy grabbed the breast of the right-hand statue and pressed the nipple. It clicked and the double-leaved door swung open. Buffy had ducked between them as soon as there was enough space, the Scythe singing in her hands.

There was a terrified scream from the other side and then a gurgle.

The others followed just as quickly. 

“Okay, apparently you do,” Ethan sounded half-impressed then sighed and went inside too.

He hadn't quite expected to see what he did. He'd heard the Scoobies rage about the Traitor Andrew and he'd figured he'd be draped over the altar with a knife in his throat. 

Buffy had scooped up a hand of muddy clay and thrown it hard. Hard enough to knock the rather effeminate looking young man down when it struck him in the face. It was also apparently blocking his airways as he sat, dazed, leaning against the altar.

Willow was hurling bolts of fire at a young woman with light brown hair who seemed to be trying to get away, but Faith had taken up position behind the altar, where another passage led out and Ethan could feel the oppressive tingle of a ward against teleportation. 

The young woman's head was covered in an Isis mask, so he couldn't say what she otherwise looked like. Her white dress was rather heavy for a worshipper of Isis, but the place was damn cold.

Teleportation was something only the most powerful adepts did. Casting a spell that blocked it effectively, just off the cuff, was more than a little worrying. And he was already worried enough.

Buffy Summers was taking apart what looked to be quite new mummies. They didn't last as long as Ethan thought they would. That meant they had probably been made from corpses, not from willing or unwilling sacrifices.

He'd heard the rumours about the leadership of the Council, but seeing them in action. Well. 

The brunette witch was about to go down when a shape surged up from the altar and a beam of sickly green light shot from its hand. It struck Willow in the back, or at least, would have if a shimmering shield of some sort hadn't caught it.

Ethan did not want to think about the kind of power it took to hold a teleportation ward and a shield at the same time. 

Though the girl did stagger. 

Another shape sat up on the altar and a sheet of white linen fell down, revealing pasty white skin and a slight form topped with dark hair.

“You!” Buffy jumped, kicked the being who had launched the beam at Willow and made it drop, landed on the altar and stomped down on the top of Andrew’s head and caught the sitting one under the chin with her knee as she drew her foot up.

Both Andrew and the sitting form collapsed.

Xander was in a whirling combat with one of the new mummies, using a sword in each hand while Adam had a crossbow with burning quarrels that weren’t having as much effect as apparently he was hoping.

The beam-launching being was revealed as wearing another Isis mask, though this one seemed alive as it writhed and moved in fury, the eyes of inlaid obsidian flashing and burning like coal. Long cow horns rose on either side and a sun disc was mounted on the forehead. She raised a hand and another beam flew at Willow. Buffy struck at her, but a hand grasped the Scythe and then the blonde Slayer was flying, landing feet first against the far wall. 

She barely dodged the Scythe that was thrown after her. 

“That’s a Theurgy!” Adam yelled.

“Guessed that!” Buffy called back, grabbing the Scythe where it was vibrating angrily in the wall. 

The embodied Goddess was looking at her hand, then the painted eyes narrowed and another beam of fire shot out form her other hand. 

Willow managed to deflect it, but Amy ran off. Then there was a thud and Faith jumped over the altar and kicked Isis in the head.

“Get the mask off!” Adam snapped, backhanding a mummy and then whirling and beheading it. 

Isis got back to her feet and threw a punch at Faith, who managed to dodge. The next blow was dodged as well, hit the altar and cracked it. 

Buffy had been waiting for her chance, ran at her and swung the scythe. A hair thin slice at the back of the head covering mask was cut.

Faith grabbed one horn, Buffy the other and they pulled with all their might.

A scream reverberated throughout the temple as the mask tore. 

The woman wearing it collapsed.

Willow let her hands drop and stood panting. Xander watched as the mummy he’d laboriously been cutting to bits fell apart into dust. 

“Was that really Jonathan?” Willow asked.

Buffy reached out and touched the fallen shape on the altar. “He’s got a pulse and I can hear his heart. He still is.”

“So who did they make Isis?” Xander asked. “I was really expecting it to be Amy.”

Buffy grimaced. “Well, her hair is blonde, so it probably isn’t Catherine Madison. Probably picked some big time evil sorceress. What are you doing?”

Adam had knelt by her and was checking her life signs. He looked up. “I somehow doubt you’d want her to die again, if we can get her back sane.”

“What?” Buffy asked. Xander and Willow and Faith joined him. Buffy gripped the Scythe so hard her bones creaked. “I’m gonna kill them.”

Joyce Summers opened her eyes, looking dazed and confused. “Buffy?”


	29. Chapter 29

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 29**

Buffy was looking ready to do murder. So, for that matter, were Willow and Xander and even Faith.

“They brought mom back,” Buffy spat. “Why?”

“Probably because they had a lack of decent mothers themselves,” Adam said, reading a book he'd put on the altar. “And apparently the Theurgy of Isis needs to be a woman who bore a child.”

“Which isn't all that strange, if you think about it,” Ethan added, leafing through another book. Willow was looking along over his shoulder while scowling at the trussed up Amy, Andrew and Jonathan.

Buffy was hovering over her mother, who was lying on a pile of blankets and jackets. Willow had cast a sleep spell on her as soon as Joyce started to realise something was wrong.

“Why aren't we taking her out of here?” Xander demanded. “She's cold, confused and scared.”

“Because we need to know more about what they did,” Adam said. “If we take her above ground, she might burn up and her soul claimed by Dark Isis, or Cyvus Vail. Ah. This is the ritual they were working from. Give me a sec.”

He drew a notebook from his pocket and started to translate at high speed. 

Ethan frowned. “Got yourself a Ripper rip-off, Slayer?”

“I'm all original,” Adam replied, not looking up. “Now be a nice little chaos mage and find out what's wrong with Rupert.”

Ethan grumbled, but went back to his own book. 

“Got it,” he murmured. “Defences. Right. Huh,” he looked at Buffy. “How many bolts were shot? 

“Six,” Buffy replied.

“Trap meant for a Slayer. Designed by a fallen Watcher, to kill Slayers who came to look for them.”

“Designed to kill Slayers?” Buffy asked. “I could have taken them down. If it hadn't been so narrow a space and Giles hadn't been in it as well.”

“Maybe, but you're you and most Slayers don't have your training or experience,” Adam looked up from his own translating. “From what you told me, your training wasn't that of a typical Slayer or Potential, like Kendra.” 

“You use different ways to stop things flying at you than I do,” Faith pointed out. “And we're both way different than the stuff Kennedy uses. She got the ‘official’ Potential training for longer than me. And you got none at all.”

Buffy nodded, accepting the point. 

“The stuff on the bolts is created to kill Slayers. It's based on the Cruciamentum drug,” Willow said. “But I know what that is. I should have been able to determine that!”

“Nope,” Ethan pointed to a line. “Cloak of the Mother. Bollockses up scrying attempts. Clever little bastard, the Watcher who created this.”

Willow scowled. “We need to know if there's an antidote. He doesn't have a Slayer's immune system.”

“And we need his name, so we can properly revile this treacherous Watcher guy,” Xander grumbled. 

“We need to know what to do about mom,” Buffy said. 

“I think I've got it,” Adam spoke quietly. “They needed a woman who had given birth. They needed one who had been touched by magic and death. If the child was special in some way, that was all to the good. With you and Dawn, Joyce completely qualified. They also needed to sacrifice the soul of one of their own mothers. So they got Joyce's remains, and some statuette from Sunnydale High and the bones of Jonathan from there as well. And then they brought them back.”

“Statuette?” Buffy frowned. 

“A cheerleading trophy that apparently contained the soul of Amy's mother,” Adam held up a few scribbled pages he'd apparently found in the book. “Their translations are atrocious, but they wrote out the steps of their plan.”

“So now mom's Isis' lap dog?” Buffy growled.

“No, she was brought back to be a vessel and eventually wholly subsumed. But they hadn't gotten around to that yet. Otherwise it would have been a lot harder to fight her,” Adam pointed out.

“So all that means?” Xander was standing by Joyce as well now.

“That she's alive and we're getting her out of here,” Willow said. “Right now.”

***********************************************************

_St Thomas' and St Guy's hospital, London_

“We're going to have to get her to see Dawn as soon as possible,” Buffy fretted.

“So she can yell at her,” Willow said with a slight smile.

“Mom didn't do much yelling anymore. The reasoned voice and the disappointed looks tended to be enough,” Buffy grinned slightly.

“Ugh, the reasoned voice,” Willow grimaced. “No wonder Giles left the discipline to her.”

“Not like we would have listened to him,” Buffy shrugged. The door opened and a doctor, looking a bit stern and confused, came out. 

“Miss Summers?”

“Ms,” Buffy corrected him. “Yes.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Ms Summers, the NHS is not there to pull pranks on. You had us run a battery of tests on your mother and it is very clear that none of them are necessary.”

Buffy let out a breath. “Fine, send the bill,” she rummaged in a pocket and withdrew a business card. It was rather rumpled. “Here. Make sure it’s itemised. The accountants like it when it’s itemised.”

“Ms Summers,” the doctor was still stern faced. “You tied up an important piece of medical diagnostic equipment. This isn't just about the money.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I get that. We're completely serious. Mom had a growth in her head that was operated on and then seemed to fade even further, okay? We have the medical files, just not with us right now. We'd need to get a copy from LA anyway, the original went down with Sunnydale.”

The man blinked. “Really? There's no trace of that...”

“Mom was a bit of an odd case,” Willow added. “I mean, Ms Summers, I mean, Joyce.”

“Call me mom, honey,” Joyce said from the doorway. “And could someone get me some clothes that close at the back?”

Willow let out a few odd noises. Buffy patted her on the back and smiled at her mother, reaching out a hand as if to touch her and then drawing it back.

“Ms Summers!” The doctor said. “Did you really have a tumour? And I thought you were going to lay down for a bit.”

“Yes, and no, that was merely what your nurse suggested and I really have no desire to sleep with her,” Joyce said. “Or wasn't that what she meant by 'now we're going to have a little lie-down and some sleep'? Though she could probably use some, she looks tired.”

The doctor's mouth quirked. “Right. I would appreciate seeing those files.”

Buffy looked at her mother. Joyce shrugged. “I'll probably be doing a lot of travelling. Having them have my records here might help in future,” she smiled wryly. “It might have helped this time.”

“Okay, we'll get the doctors in LA to send them to you,” Willow said, having gotten over her moment of meaningless vowel sounds.

“That would be appreciated,” the doctor nodded. “Hope you have a pleasant stay in the UK.”

“I'm sure it will be very interesting,” Joyce smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

*************************************************************

Joyce wasn't up to a long shopping trip, which was a great disappointment to Buffy. 

So she was wearing some things more suitable to a younger woman, though thankfully at least some of the Slayers and new Watchers here had some height to them.

Not that she would ever say that out loud near Buffy.

She needed one or two outfits and some toiletries and once she felt like she didn't need to sleep for a week, she'd get some more. Apparently the Council had money and was willing to spend it on the “Head Slayer'. That was another thing that Joyce needed to hear about. There were far more than two Slayers, from what she could tell. And quite a few looked at her with a mix of awe and fear.

“What do you know about ladies' clothing?” Buffy sniffed at a tall, muscled and rather lanky man. He had grey eyes and seemed perpetually amused.

“Well, more than you do.”

“Adam!” Buffy scolded. “I'm a perfect lady.”

“Uh-huh,” Adam agreed. “The Queen just loved your shoes. Absolutely Fabulous, Dahling.”

Willow giggled. Xander sniggered. Buffy glared.

“Well, she did,” she said defensively.

“At any rate, you know what a lady of your age would want to wear, but your mother looks uncomfortable in what you had on hand, so I suggest we try some other stores. With less cleavage and more hemline for everyday wear,” Adam smiled at Buffy.

So he'd noticed that. Interesting. 

Buffy put a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “You know the most amazing things.”

Ah. It was that way then. She hoped this one wasn't a vampire or a secret commando. She loved her daughters, she really did, but she could do with a little less of the romantic disasters they managed to get into. Not that she had much to talk about, really. Her luck was atrocious. So it was probably hereditary.

**************************************************************

Joyce was wandering through the halls of the London Council HQ. Though the Watchers had been blown up, and the ones who hadn't been blown up shot, garrotted, stabbed, poisoned or disembowelled, the real estate, all freehold, still belonged to its legal successor. This included a large building near the Inns of Court that was being used now, while the Council wrangled with the City and the Government about what sort of building would replace the stately Georgian Palladian mansion that the First had blown up. Thankfully the offices held a lot fewer of the research resources than the bleak nineteen-fifties libraries. So at least they had that. 

She was hearing bickering. She really should be asleep, but every time she closed her eyes she wondered if it would be the last time. And the short naps she'd taken had been disturbed by strange dreams, nightmares, images of death and destruction. 

Enough to make her worry about going to sleep again. Perchance to dream.

She moved to the sound of the bickering. It sounded quite friendly, like her children after an 'exciting' night. There were a lot of 'Totally nots' and “Totally yesses' and ‘like, totallys!’ A typical friendly argument. 

She didn't know everything that had happened since her death yet. But clearly things had gone very wrong. And she intended to find out what had gone wrong, and why, and have words with some people. To start with, Rupert, who should really have been more than the token adult of the group.

She was also not going to listen at doors so she stepped inside.

There was popcorn everywhere. A TV was blaring some Bollywood soap. The three twenty-somethings inside were trying to increase the size of the mess further. She'd really hoped that a few years wouldn’t have given them experience at that, too. That was probably a faint and dying hope. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat.

They froze, guiltily, as they recognised the sound of old. 

“What exactly happened here? Or is that something mothers were not meant to know?”

“Mom!” Buffy and Willow blurted out. Buffy clearly had been about to upend a bowl of popcorn over the redhead.

Xander looked stricken, in mid-throw.

Joyce looked around. “I assume this will be all cleaned up tomorrow, so that the younger generation doesn't pick up your bad habits.”

“Yes,” Buffy hastily lowered the bowl. “Of course.”

Joyce nodded. “Good. I'm sure your brother and sister will be equally diligent cleaning it all up.” 

She smiled at Xander and left.

He still looked stricken, but the sad look on his face had been replaced by one of shocked happiness. She'd talk more with them in the morning. Maybe she could sleep now.


	30. Chapter 30

**Author’s note:**

**Thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan. Early post once more.**

**Chapter 30**

“Okay. So what do we do with them?” Xander asked. “I mean, they're bad guys, they clearly are our responsibility.”

“And what do we do with Ethan?” Willow added. “He's totally a bad guy too.”

“First we see if Ethan's ideas about healing Giles work. If they don't, we kill him. If they do, we grill Giles about being a total asshole in the service of Wolfram and Hart for the last couple of years and then maybe kill both of them,” Buffy said. “The others, they're black witches and wizards, they messed up the world big time and they wanted to use mom as the vessel for their dark goddess theurgy thing. They die.”

“Who's going to kill them?” Willow said softly. “It's one thing doing it in the heat of battle. This would be an execution.”

“If no-one can be found, I'll do it,” Buffy stated. Her face was cold and implacable.

“Do we give them a trial?” Xander asked.

“We question them. If there is any reason why we should or might be lenient, we can do a trial. Otherwise, off with their heads,” Buffy said. “We need to know what they know, and what they did, but I really can't think of any reasons why they could have thought what they were doing was, like, a good thing. And they've all had their second chances, and more. So unless they're really, totally convincing, it's the chop.”

“I could change them into rats,” Willow offered.

“Always have your pets spayed and neutered,” Xander sniggered.

“How long would they live as rats? Amy was still our age, even though in ratty years she should have been near death,” Buffy pointed out. “I don't want a whole bunch of Junior Slayers in fifty years’ time wondering why we have a cage of rats.”

“Statues?” Willow said, then shook her head. “No, they'd be just as dead.”

Xander sighed. “Who does the questioning?”

“Adam should be there,” Willow said. “He knows a lot about the cult.”

“We should all be there. We can play bad cop, worse cop,” Xander rose. 

“Where you going?” Buffy asked. 

“If we're going to play cops, I'm gonna get donuts.”

******************************************************* 

“So they betrayed you, back-stabbed you and tried to kill you,” Joyce said. “Well, they certainly don't sound like very nice young people.”

“Kids these days,” Adam agreed.

“But why do you want me to be there?” Joyce asked.

“You might be one of their biggest victims,” Buffy said seriously. “Maybe with the exception of the ones that got killed because of them.”

“I came back to life, dear,” Joyce pointed out.

“Which many people consider worse,” Willow said miserably. 

“It has to do with the location of the soul, the intent of the person bringing them back, and if the soul wants to come back,” Adam said. “At least, according to the Devon Coven.”

“So I may not have cursed my soul for all eternity?” Willow's voice was bitter. “Woo-hoo.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Buffy said. “And I should.”

Joyce made a mental note of that. There was more story there and she needed to know it. That sounded like one of the things that had gone wrong. And it also sounded like Buffy had been dead. She swallowed heavily and her heart quailed.

“But doesn't there need to be a mystical means of death to resurrect someone?” Xander asked, with an apologetic look at Willow.

“Yes, for the Rite of Osiris,” Adam agreed. “Which includes death by vampire, otherwise Darla could not have been brought back. Though the Rituals of Isis aren't really the same as the ones that Willow used.”

Joyce's brow went up and Willow cringed. “We'll talk later,” Joyce said. 

Willow nodded meekly. Buffy patted her hand. Joyce took note of that, too. Apparently forgiveness had been granted. That was good. 

“At any rate, Ethan and Adam were able to mix up some sort of antidote to the Cruciamentum drug derivative that poisoned Giles,” Buffy said. 

“Not mix up,” Adam corrected her. “Devise. He's still in Rome. Someone else will have to mix it up.”

“We're heading out to Rome as soon as we've done with the questioning. “I don't trust Dawn to mix up anything,” Buffy grimaced.

“I think a lot of her bad cooking is actually to torment you,” Willow giggled. 

“I wouldn't be surprised,” Xander agreed with a snigger. He had been listening and eating donuts.

Buffy scowled. “Oh? Well, let's see how she deals with a Big Sis Noogie special.”

Joyce suppressed a smile. Some things never did change.

************************************************************

Amy was looking straight ahead, with sweat running down her face. Willow finished a final gesture. “Okay. I think I've got her under. There was, like, some pretty nasty 'Thou shalt not tattle' stuff in her head, but I think I got it all.”

“What if you didn't?” Buffy asked.

“Total brains leaking from ears time,” Willow said cheerfully. “But hopefully we'll get the info anyway.”

The others looked at her.

“That sort of spell needs the compliance of the recipient to be that effective,” Adam explained. “If she gets nothing more than a headache, we know it was put on her against her will. Otherwise, we wouldn't have gotten her to talk anyway.”

“How do you know stuff like that?” Xander asked. 

“One can know quite a lot about magic without doing any,” Adam replied. 

“That's not an answer,” Xander pointed out.

“Well, I considered saying 'Did you ever ask Rupert that?' or 'Reading broadens the mind', but I assumed that you had and he'd told you the second and you'd just disregarded it,” Adam shrugged. “So this is what you get.”

Buffy snorted. “He did ask.”

“So we need to ask her questions,” Xander crossed his arms. “How do we start this?”

Willow cleared her throat. “Amy. Why did you choose Joyce Summers to be the Vessel of Isis?”

Amy's brow wrinkled and her mouth scrunched up as she tried to resist answering. “We needed someone who had been a mother, and loved and touched by death. Her children were magical. And it would hurt you all the most.”

“Isn't she just a sweet, swell girl,” Xander said. 

“Amy. Did you have anything to do with her death? Do you know anything about it?” Willow asked. 

“No. Andrew bragged about that. He and his friends got paid to kill her with some sort of mystical poison or spell. So I knew we could use her, even with the Osiris rite. But the Isis rite doesn't need the mystical death, just a mystical connection.”

“They killed her?” Buffy growled. “Screw letting anyone else kill them. Screw any chance of a trial.”

Willow took a deep, calming breath, but her hands were clenched into fists. “Amy. What made you turn to Isis?”

“There was a book about her in my mother's library. I decided she could help me achieve my goals.”

“Amy. Are you an employee of Wolfram and Hart?”

“No.” 

***********************************************************

Adam was flipping through the notes he'd taken of the questioning of Amy Andrew and Jonathan.

“Well, we've got a pretty clear picture. Andrew and Jonathan were paid by Wolfram and Hart to keep an eye on you since you came to Sunnydale, as was Warren. They used the money to buy typical teenage things. And in Warren's case, the materials for his experiments in androids. Andrew kept funnelling information to Wolfram and Hart even after he joined you, they were interested in what was happening in your battle against the First. Hence they knew when to hand Angel the Amulet. They also used the information to further disturb your relationship with your father, and later to help Andrew orchestrate an ever widening rift between all of you, especially Giles. Wolfram and Hart may not have Willow's sheer flair at hacking and computers, they do have enough money to buy good service if they have inside information on what to manipulate. And Andrew gave them plenty.”

“And Andrew being involved in Joyce's death made it even more powerful to bring her back,” Willow scowled. 

“Amy contacted Cyvus Vail, who apparently had also paid attention to her mother. He was delighted to provide her with training during the holidays. He's a member of the Circle of the Black Thorn. He was expecting her to summon a Theurgy, and she didn't betray him. He thought he could control it, because of certain spells he cast on Joyce's bones. She doubted that, but went along with it.”

“I've looked, they're gone. The resurrection ritual and then the Theurgy completely removed them,” Willow assured Buffy and Xander. 

“Which is what Amy guessed would happen, but we should do some more research and tests. And find out what Cyvus Vail thought he was doing,” Adam said. “He's too wily a magician to think it would work, I feel.”

“And this Circle of Black Thorn, they're the ultimate servants of Wolfram and Hart, right?” Xander looked at Adam.

“Yes. The worst of the worst and the most powerful of them,” Adam agreed.

“And this Lindsey guy was in charge of the 'make Buffy unhappy’ thing?”

“And Lilah was,” Willow nodded. “Which Wesley no doubt will be very happy to hear, as he was boinking her when she was.”

“Not like Wesley cares about the happiness of Slayers,” Buffy shrugged. “Or the survival of people. The Mission is what is important.”

“I don't suppose we could leave him with Wolfram and Hart?” Xander asked.

“He knows too much,” Buffy shook her head. “He is a fully trained Watcher. Even if he was trained to, like be a total bastard, by total bastards.”

“But all this gives us a lot of information to work with,” Adam said. “And I suggest we get on with that.” 


	31. Chapter 31

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 31**

“This is a very nice place,” Joyce looked at the Watchers' Headquarters in Rome. “But so was the London one.”

“We're gonna see if we can cure Giles, and then, like, get him to talk. A lot more clearly than the ramblings he got out when he was poisoned,” Buffy said. “Also Dawn's here and she isn't allowed to fly with her concussion.”

“Is it still that bad?” Joyce frowned.

“Maybe not, but we shouldn't risk it and at least it gave us some peace,” Buffy smirked.

“Yes. I gather that there was a lot of... trouble... between you and her, and Willow and Xander and Rupert,” Joyce said evenly. 

“We were messed up. Not all of it was Andrew's doing. The others bringing me back, me being depressed and overbearing, Giles being a general-”

Joyce coughed and Buffy continued as if she had never intended to use a different word, “Poopyhead, with or without W&H spurring him on, Willow’s magic addiction, Tara’s death, Xander and Anya. Then the thing with the Immortal and Dawn messing up and Giles basically whoring me out… It was a whole, big, well, mess.”

“I see. It must have been difficult.”

“For all of us,” Buffy sighed. “We… You dying… It hit all of us,” she smiled. “I mean, I knew I loved you and you were my mom, but we never realised how much you did for us. Even Tara admitted going to you.”

“She was frightened by Willow’s power,” Joyce nodded. “So was I, but I should have taken her warning more to heart.”

“One look from you probably did more good than an hour long high on his horse lecture from Giles,” Buffy said. “It wasn’t just you… dying. But it was a big part of it. We basically fell apart.”

“Then we’d better make sure that the mend holds,” Joyce said firmly. “So. Let’s go see Dawn. Rome is a nice city, but I really want to see and hold both my beautiful daughters.”

“Yeah. Ummm… You know that Dad was all stand-offish and abandon-y?”

“I’m aware,” Joyce said. 

“That was Andrew, and Wolfram and Hart. He’s here. With his new wife, and one step daughter who’s completely like a little Willow, and they’ve got these adorable twins. He thought Dawn and me died, together. Lightning strike.”

“So he’s with Dawn?” Joyce crossed her arms. “And you’ve been leading me through this city on the off-chance I might decide to take his head off?”

“Yeah,” Buffy admitted rather sheepishly. 

Joyce rolled her eyes. “If you’ve made your peace with him, so can I. Certainly if it wasn’t his fault. And I was there when you questioned Andrew, dear.”

“Ummm…. There’s also this guy… She may be kinda be dating him,” Buffy muttered.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Joyce raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s Immortal, and, like, four hundred years old,” Buffy said.

Joyce put a thumb and finger to her eyes. “Right. I see. Well, I suppose it was too much to hope either of you would pick someone who wasn’t older, or somewhat involved in the supernatural.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Buffy said defensively. “I'm totally of the single. Dawn's the one after the old supernatural guy this time.”

Joyce sent her a wry look. “Oh. It’s like that again, is it?”

“What?”

“Never mind honey. Let’s go see your sister, father and his wife and new children.”

Buffy led the way. “But what did you mean, it’s like that again?”

Joyce just sighed.

************************************************************

Dawn was hugging her mother, and Buffy was hugging her mother, and Xander and Willow were sniffling in the corner. 

Joyce finally let go of her youngest and looked at her critically. “So. Tell me about this man you've been dating. This much, much older man.” 

Hank came in with a tray. Tear tracks were visible on his face too. Mary's voice could be heard from the next room over, where she was asking Joe about books.

“An older man?” His eyes narrowed. “DUNCAN!”

“Crap,” Dawn whispered. “How did he guess that?”

“Anne told me he always goes for the Damsels in Distress,” Hank told her. “Duncan McLeod! Get in here!”

Duncan sidled in. “Errr... Hello.”

“Well. He is a well set-up man,” Joyce admitted with a look at Dawn. “Though even without the weight of centuries, perhaps a trifle old?”

“Mo-om!” Dawn whined. 

Anne appeared behind him. “Duncan! Really!”

“I only just asked her out on a date,” Duncan defended himself. “Nothing’s happened yet! I mean-”

Dawn blushed as Buffy, Willow and Xander sniggered. 

“She's barely legal,” Hank said. He looked at Buffy. “Didn't you say anything?”

Buffy shrugged. “Compared to her earlier boyfriends, well, he's older, but if he's able to keep her from getting kidnapped every other Tuesday it means I get one off every two weeks. Also he's got money and she eats chocolate like a pig.”

Dawn glared at her. “Do not.”

“Do too,” Buffy replied. “You totally ate half the chocolates Adam got for me at Moriondo’s.” 

“You left them all alone, while you went off to save the world and stuff,” Dawn muttered. “They were like, totally calling out to me.”

“From behind three locked doors,” Buffy noted dryly.

“They called very, very loudly because they were very lonely,” Dawn said. 

“This sounds familiar,” Hank shook his head. He turned to Duncan. “Look, you know what you're getting into. If you hurt her, Buffy will skin you, starting with your most intimate friend.”

Buffy and Dawn gaped at him.

“What?” Hank said. “I’m just making the best use of the resources I have to threaten a potential boyfriend of one of my daughters. He’s not going to be impressed by a shotgun, unless I also have an axe.”

Anne giggled at Duncan’s expression.

“He never got the chance before,” Joyce smiled indulgently. “Though I imagine that he’d really have enjoyed it with Angel.”

Buffy winced. “Right. Okay.”

“Now Dawn needs to rest,” Hank said, with a look at Joyce. “I’ve been keeping her up too long.”

“And so has Mary,” Anne added apologetically. 

Joyce got up, giving Dawn a kiss. “Go to sleep. I can see you’re wilting. Not to mention that was the worst excuse you came up with for eating Buffy’s chocolate since you were five.”

“Totally of the lame,” Willow and Buffy said simultaneously. 

Joyce laughed.

********************************************************

“He’s doing better, but it will be a while before he fully wakes up,” Adam smiled at her as they drove through Rome, to her favoured café, where her mother would be waiting. Joyce didn’t want to be inside. She might not have woken up in a coffin like Buffy, the walls did seem to close in on her.

“Good. Then we can question him about, like, everything,” Buffy said. “So, where did this car come from?” 

Adam smiled. “A family friend who was a talent scout. He got tied up in the overly convoluted attempt by some rather wealthy and powerful people to get even more wealthy and powerful. He managed to foil it. Then he married the young lady he’d scouted out and who helped foil it, became a raging drunk, divorced her, and then shot her and was imprisoned for life in Broadmoor. My cousin bought this at the estate sale after the divorce.”

Buffy huffed. “Don’t you have any happy love stories? First that Ivanhoe guy, now this.”

“Most of the tales I know seem to involve rather fickle gentlemen,” Adam admitted. “So no.”

“Figures,” Buffy smiled at him. “At least it isn’t yellow.”

“I would agree that one was rather eye-watering,” Adam smiled. “I have to take this one back to the garage afterwards. My cousin will need it next week.”

“So we have one week to drive it?” Buffy raised an eyebrow. “And look at the people on Vespa’s and laugh?”

“Dawn drives a Vespa,” Adam said. 

“Exactly,” Buffy said with satisfaction.

Joyce watched as Buffy got out of the apple-red car cabriolet. A few of the young men at the table next to hers identified it, rather jealously as an Alfa Romeo 1600 Duetto Spider, and the driver as both undeserving of its, and the beautiful blonde's who got out of it, favours.

Joyce had no firm opinion on either, though her daughter did look quite happy as she said goodbye, letting out a tinkling laugh. 

The formula administered to Rupert had some effect then. And Adam too. The car drove off, sounding the horn musically. No-one who watched the near picture perfect scene seemed to mind that it broke half a dozen traffic regulations.

“So, Adam got you chocolates?” Joyce said, as she stirred her cappuccino. 

“Yeah,” Buffy sipped hers. “He’s a good friend.”

“Nice of him to drop you off,” Joyce agreed. “A lovely car to drive through Rome in.”

“Hmmm,” Buffy agreed dreamily.

“Is he a good friend like Ford was a good friend in early Fifth Grade?” Joyce waited carefully until Buffy was not drinking. She’d only just come back from the dead, the last thing she wanted was for her daughter to choke.

Buffy almost managed it anyway and turned horrified eyes on her mother. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no! Oh no!”

“I see. So you have no feelings for him whatsoever, and he buys you some of the world’s best chocolates on a whim?” 

Buffy groaned. “Crap. And double crap.”

“That seems a bit over the top for realising you’ve got a crush dear. He seemed like quite a nice man.”

Buffy answered with a brittle smile. “He’s very good at that. He’s got lots and lots of practice. I need to go. Sorry mom.”

She pushed away from the table, threw some money at her favourite server, who caught it with a rather bemused smile and turned to the lovely signora still drinking her cappuccino. 

He wondered when he heard her murmur. ‘Oh dear. I wonder how old and bad this one is.’

**Author’s note:**

**Moriondo e Gariglio’s is the oldest chocolatier in Rome. How shall I put this… Experience at glorious confections since 1850.**

**The reference of the last car,** [ **the car in question** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfa_Romeo_Spider) **is the one Roger Moore drove in the really rather bad movie** [ **Crossplot** ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crossplot_\(film\)) **. It’s really, really bad. The car is nice. I made up the part about him becoming an abusive drunk after the end of the movie. Just because it was so bad… Don’t watch it and then blame me.**

************************************************************** 


	32. Chapter 32

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 32**

Buffy sat down at the table in the lower library of the Council’s Rome HQ. “Crap,” she muttered. “Crap, crap and double crap.”

“That's, like, five craps, What's so crappy? Date with Adam not good?” Willow grinned. “It's a pretty cool car, Xander said. Even if the colour is less blinding than the Aston Martin.”

Buffy sighed. “It wasn't a date... I think... I hope. Crap”

“You think?” Willow snorted. “Buffy, do you want to go and live in Egypt? They've got a very nice river there.”

Buffy shook her head and let it fall back against the chair's high back. “I wasn't supposed to fall in love with him.”

“Because you got your heart broken too often?” Willow asked softly.

“Because I didn't think I could trust him,” Buffy muttered. 

“Why not?” Willow frowned.

“You remember that program you wrote? Cracking for idiots?” Buffy opened an eye.

“Aim and point? Yeah,” Willow said. “Not my best. I've got a new version! It's like, way better!”

“I let it loose in the Junior Council system, when they said we really needed Adam,” Buffy said. “It said that they were pretty sure he was an Immortal. They think he got killed and revived while he was with them. I was pretty sure, like immediately, that he infiltrated them to look for the real Immortal, not the fake one who lived here. He's out to kill the real Methos and I think he's trying to use us to help him do it.”

Willow pursed her lips. “Well, I think he's Immortal, yeah, but even Richie has more of a presence than he does.”

“So you can sense them?” Buffy frowned. 

“I created a spell once Faith said she could feel Richie.”

Buffy had to snigger. 

“And not in that way,” Willow giggled as well. “So after that, yeah. There's differences between them, the really old ones, they're like, obvious. Darius, that other guy who Duncan said was a Roman Centurion.’

“Marcus Constantine. He showed me some nifty sword tricks,” Buffy sighed. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Errr... Because I figured that if Faith could feel Richie, you could feel Adam? In lots of ways?” Willow blushed a little. 

Buffy glared at her. “I did not! And anyway, if I had, I’d have told you!”

“Really?” Willow perked up at that thought.

Buffy nodded. “Really.”

“Cool,” Willow smiled, broadly and happily and taking Buffy back to the earlier, more innocent days. “But if you know he’s Immortal, why do you think he’s a bad one? Darius isn’t, and Duncan, and Marcus.”

“He avoids Mac, hadn’t you noticed? And Sean. And Marcus. All the ones who actually use swords. But anyway, I think he can hide, or diminish his, somehow,” Buffy continued glumly. “And that he's been using us as a way to get to as many Immortals as he can, to prepare for the big fight against Methos.”

Willow sat down next to her. “Oh, Buffy. That's... Nasty. How can you tell?”

“He's got lots of old things. All family heirlooms. He knows too much. He reads things too easily. I know he's clever, but that dialect Latin he translated? The medieval one?”

“There's only, like, two people in the world who think they can read it and they totally don't agree about half of it,” Willow said. “Crap.”

“And double crap,” Buffy agreed.

“But why is he dropping all those hints?” Willow asked. “I mean, if he wants to play you...”

“I think he's trying to, I dunno, impress me somehow. He may think I can't figure it out. It may be his ego. All the Immortals we've met have plenty of it.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “So, what're you gonna do?”

“I'm gonna confront him,” Buffy said. “Only thing I can do.”

“You could have someone else do it,” Willow pointed out. “Someone less involved.”

“No. That way leads to madness and mom talking to the boys I have crushes on without knowing and the embarrassment that never dies,” Buffy mumbled.

“What?” Willow vibrated with interest. “Who?”

“Never mind,” Buffy got up hastily. “I’m gonna go talk to Adam. You stay here. And don’t ask mom! Or dad! Or Dawn!”

Willow made a mental note to do just that, as soon as she could. 

****************************************************************

“Hello Buffy,” Adam looked up from his reading. Buffy sat opposite him. Cold seemed to emanate from her. The room emptied and she sat looking at him.

Adam carefully closed his book. “Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yeah. You,” Buffy said quietly. 

“What about me?” Adam asked.

“I know you're an Immortal. I knew that since before I allowed you to join as a Watcher. But they thought you're a young one. You aren't. You’re old. And you're after him, aren't you? Methos? You worked on his Chronicles, you're looking for him through us. You want his head and his Quickening, and then claim the prize and become a god. A god king of the Primordium.”

“Why are you bringing this up now? Why not earlier?” Adam asked.

“Because I didn't know what you wanted. We needed help. You were a good scholar,” Buffy continued, now almost in a whisper. “I never thought I'd get to like you. I want to know what the hell is going on, if I need to kill you or just kick you out, or whatever. I don't want to get hurt again. I'm stupid, but not that stupid.”

Adam nodded. “I see. Well, I've got an answer for you, of sorts. Is Joe nearby?”

“Drinking coffee with Dawn and Duncan and talking about the Court of Elizabeth the First,” Buffy said. 

“He wasn't even there,” Adam muttered. “Call Joe. Ask him to come here.”

Buffy sent him a look, then pulled out her phone. “Joe? Can you come to the library? Yeah, it's urgent. 'Kay, thanks.”

She sat back. Adam opened his book again, made a few careful notes on his pad and put both aside, folding his hands. 

The door opened. “What's wrong, Buffy?” Dawn asked.

“Is it an emergency?” Duncan began then performed a classic double take. “METHOS!”

Adam sighed. “See what I have to work with? You think your people are bad at secret identities? The Highlander here hasn't managed to shake his accent or his name in four hundred years.”

“Methos?” Dawn said breathlessly. “Methos? The real Immortal? You are the Real Immortal?” She sat down wide eyed. “Tell me all about yourself.”

“You're Methos?” Buffy looked at Joe. “He's Methos?”

Joe nodded. “The one and only.”

“Good. Now that you've outed me in the most dramatic ways possible, McLeod, go and buy Dawn a cup of coffee. Far away from here,” Adam said firmly. “And make sure you get her home early and don’t overexcite her and that she doesn’t take off her sunglasses. We'll talk later. Joe?”

Joe chuckled. “I'll talk to you later as well, if you live. Come along, McLeod.”

“But-” McLeod and Dawn said simultaneously.

“They've got things to talk about,” Joe said taking them by the arm. “That they don't need the pair of you for. Methos? Try not go get killed.”

“I shall do my best to hold on to my head and my Quickening,” Adam assured the Watcher.

Buffy's mouth twitched as the Watcher led the two, protesting, from the room. “He asked her out on a date, you know.”

”I assume you mean McLeod and not Joe?” Adam smiled.

“I think Joe is more the grandfatherly type,” Buffy said.

“Like I said before, it's ideal. McLeod needs someone to save and Dawn needs someone to rescue her,” Adam assured her. 

“Every Tuesday,” Buffy agreed. Then she twined her fingers together and put her hands on the table. “You're really Methos,” She said. “I figured you were, like, a thousand years old, maybe fifteen hundred.”

“I'm not exactly sure how old I am. Before calendars things were a bit hazy,” Adam admitted. “A lot of the first rulers I knew, they were before writing too.”

“Joe's people say five thousand,” Buffy said.

“I met Kakistos when he was pretty young. I wasn't,” Methos said, his eyes darkening. “I didn't kill him, there were too many others around and he didn’t really stand out yet, except as another one claiming he was going to be the worst. Being as old as I am, it's not something that's safe to mention really. A lot of head-hunters would love to bag me even more if they knew I might be ten or fifteen thousand years old, not five.”

“Huh,” Buffy frowned. “I suppose. So, Why are you here?”

“Never in all my life have I met two Slayers at the same time. Never have there been so many, never has the playing field been so altered,” Methos spread his hands. “I wanted to meet the people who did that. I've been a Watcher, both types, many, many times. I helped found both organisations. There have always been demons, and now there is a chance to deal a telling blow to the ones who have feasted on man for far too long.”

“So you're here on a mission,” Buffy said. “Right. I can get that.”

Methos was silent. Slowly his eyes became lighter again. 

“So, you said it was more likely that Methos had more often been a slave than a king?” Buffy asked.

Adam laughed. “Been both, I'd advise the king, even if the chance of a knife in your ribs might be marginally greater. Of course at no time in my past lives as a king was my life half as good than it is now. Modern life is amazing. The plumbing, the heating, the clothes, the entertainment, the food.”

“Any king I might have heard about?” Buffy smiled. “And have pity on me, I never did pay much attention in history.”

“I was Djet, fourth Pharaoh of Egypt, and several others some time later. I was called Hammurabi and many other names. The king lists were full of me in a time when a clever man with a strong will could lay claim to a throne. I travelled with Alexander to India as one of his generals and could have claimed part of his Empire, but by then I couldn't be bothered. I advised Caesar, and his enemies. I was a chief of chiefs on the coast of America before the Irish ever set foot on shore. Yes they did, I was there. I told a young Norseman about the land I'd seen and was called a coward for not treading it myself. I am Methos. I have been slave and king, servant and master, teacher and pupil, husband, father, lover, murderer, saviour, soldier, diplomat, priest, worshipper and god. I am, and always will be, Methos.”

Buffy whistled softly. “I wonder if Xander and Willow will think you tick my 'a little bad in her boy' box.”

Adam sighed closing his eyes. “I think that you'll find that it's more a lot of bad, especially when you ask McLeod.”

“So what did you do? Were you a bad god?” Buffy smiled. “And I've met a bad god, remember.”

“A mad, bad god,” Adam agreed, his eyes still closed and he let out a pained sigh. He opened them again. They were almost black. “When the Lamb broke the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature saying, “Come.” I looked, and behold, an ashen horse; and he who sat on it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him. Authority was given to them over a fourth of the earth, to kill with sword and with famine and with pestilence and by the wild beasts of the earth.”

“That’s the book of Revelation,” Buffy said. “The bit about death…” 

“Death on a pale horse,” Adam said. “Yes. I had three brothers, people I rode with for centuries. We harried and pillaged and burned and raped and enslaved. We were so terrible that we were remembered for thousands of years. I am Death.”

Buffy gulped. “Giles and Willow once got into an argument about the guy on the white horse. Who was he?”

“John the Evangelist spent half his time high on mushrooms and the rest so emaciated from fasting he saw things everywhere and couldn’t hold a straight conversation for more than half an hour,” Adam snorted. “There were four of us. Trust me. I was there.”

“You had a crown. You ruled,” Buffy pointed out.

“Yeah, well, crowns were quite common. There were dozens of kings in Britain, hundreds in Italy. Each tribe had its king. I was just the thing that kings had nightmares about,” Adam shrugged. “Anyway, each of us had a crown, or two. Usually took them from the kings, at the same time as we took their wives and daughters.”

Buffy grimaced.

“Bad enough for Willow and Xander?” Adam asked.

“How long ago was it, and when did you stop?” Buffy asked.

“Oh, the Bronze Age. I got out long before the fall of Troy,” Adam smiled. “I was there too.” 

“Do they know? The Junior Council?” Buffy asked.

“They guessed I’m Immortal, but like you read, they think I’m a young one. A very few of them wonder if I might have been older, hiding. But none of them have made the connection,” Adam laid his hands flat on the table. “There’s a prophecy about me. Well, there are many, but this one may be relevant.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Something to do with the end of the world?”

“It was spoken to me by Cassandra of Troy, when she was my slave long before that city fell. ‘She will reach for you beyond the grave and in her hands you will place your heart.”

Buffy paled. “What?”

“I am Death,” Adam said. “I am Kali, Osiris and many others. I have come to place my heart in your hands, Buffy Summers. I am Death. If you wish, it will be your gift.”

**End note:**

**And so we have denouement…**


	33. Chapter 33

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my ever faithful beta, Cordyfan, who patiently advises me on my ever expanding number of stories.**

**Chapter 33**

“Methos!?” Willow squeaked. “Really?”

Buffy nodded, still obviously in shock. 

“Wow,” Xander shook his head. “I mean, just wow.”

“So what're you gonna do. I mean, he isn't after his own head, obviously,” Willow pointed out. 

Buffy grimaced in agreement. “Obviously.”

“So where is he?” Willow asked.

“I asked him to give me some time,” Buffy muttered. “To get over my case of the embarrassed stupid.”

“Is that to do with like, total obliviousness about liking a guy?” Xander asked guilelessly.

Buffy crossed her arms and pouted. “I totally wasn't going to fall for him. I told myself it was stupid to fall in love with an Immortal out to use us to help him kill and win the Prize thingy.”

“So because it couldn't happen, obviously it wasn't,” Willow grinned. “Xander? You may want leave now.”

“Why?” Xander asked. 

“Because this is the point where we're gonna paint our nails, do our hair and complain about the whole male species and Buffy is gonna tell me all about the things she's thinking about doing with her new honey.”

“He isn't my honey,” Buffy said, rather weakly even to her own ears. “Really.”

Both her male and female best friends-slash siblings looked very sceptical about that.

Buffy pouted again. 

Xander considered for a moment. 

“He's got lovely hands,” Willow purred.

“A-and I'm outta here,” Xander muttered and left.

“He does, doesn't he?” Buffy sighed dreamily. 

“Yeah,” Willow nodded. “So. Any other skeletons in his cupboard?”

“Well, he said he had the Princess in the Tower. Or the Princes. I'm not sure what he meant,” Buffy frowned. “And lots of history.”

Willow mouthed 'Princes in the Tower’ to herself, shook her head and then focussed on Buffy again. “He may have been kidding you. Not sure. Anyway, he's like five thousand years old.”

“Probably older, he admitted that,” Buffy said. “He was the Northern Guardian for a few millennia. He got the sarcophagus back to where it belonged. And Knox was out to make Fred the Vessel of Illyria.”

Willow made a note. 

“What's that for?”

“To thank him, and to find a way to hurt Knox a bit more,” Willow replied. “Maybe a lot more.”

“Right,” Buffy nodded. “Of course. Also...”

“Yes?” Willow leaned in eagerly. “Did he, like, totally use his thousands of years of skills to curl your toes?”

Buffy's eyes widened. “Oooohhh... No.”

“You should, like, try those out at least, before you say no,” Willow said sagely. 

“Totally,” Buffy agreed. “He's Death.”

“Death?” Willow repeated. “Death to be around?”

“Four Horsemen Death. Death in a hundred, a thousand cultures. Death of a hundred cultures,” Buffy shook her head. “He was one of the leaders of a band of horsemen and they kinda imprinted themselves on the memories of people. All over the place.”

“Huh,” Willow pursed her lips. “Suppose that totally beats Angel and Spike in the reformed bad boy stakes. That's good, like, unless he still is a bad boy? Of course you do, like, have a thing for bad boys.”

Buffy glared at her. “I totally do not have a thing for bad boys.”

Willow snorted. “Su-re. So, Death is your gift?” 

“Shut it, Rosenberg,” Buffy muttered.

“Has thinking of Death given you any little deaths yet?” Willow grinned impishly. “And now you can think about his mad skills too.”

Buffy groaned. “I totally hate you.”

***********************************************************

There was a knock on the door and Guinevere wondered if she should open it.

Her reputation among her fellow Slayers was slightly lower than Fyarl snot’s after the affair with the Immortal. Not one of them trusted her. After all, if she was willing to betray Buffy Summers, the Prime Slayer, what would she be willing to do to them?

The Watchers tended to avoid her, afraid of being found guilty by association. Even Giles after everything went wrong. Though he had other reasons for that. 

All in all, that probably meant that whoever had come knocking was either at the wrong door or there to put her out of her misery.

She got up and went to open the door.

There was a woman there. She immediately recognised her. Giles had a few pictures of her, which he'd shown her as part of her training to be Buffy. She'd also heard rumours, whispers. No one was going to talk to her, after all, so all she could do was listen in on other people's conversations. Rumours that she was back. 

“Ms Summers?” she managed to not sound like Mickey Mouse. She thought that a major victory.

“Hmmm,” Joyce Summers nodded. “I am.” 

She stepped past Guinevere as the young Slayer wondered how she was going to live through the next, oh, rest of her life. All five seconds of it.

She closed the door and looked around the room. “Well, you got sixteen year old Buffy's lack of desire to clean down pat.”

Guinevere grimaced. It was true, the room was a mess. She tended to bring a tray up here to eat rather than sit in the mess and get stared at. She hadn't been able even to get reassigned from Rome. Siberia looked very appealing at the moment.

Joyce Summers cleared a place to sit on the couch, enough room for both of them. It took a little doing. “Sit down, young lady.”

Guinevere stumbled to the couch and did as she was told. 

Ms Summers looked at her, eyes narrowing.

She reached for the phone. Every Slayer had a land line and a highly advanced cell phone. “This is Joyce Summers in the room of Guinevere de la Pole. I need a large tray of food. And a trolley.”

There were some spluttered noises and squawks on the other side. The kitchen staff didn't bring food to lowly slayers like Guinevere. And they were very annoyed she'd gotten that sort of service when she'd been posing as the Prime Slayer.

“Yes. I understand. However, you're not making a delivery to her, but to me. I trust you understand the difference?”

The noises stopped. Joyce Summers hung up the phone and looked at her. 

Guinevere could make a good guess what she saw, even if she'd been avoiding her own reflection lately. 

Normally she was lithe and petite, not as small as Buffy Summers, but pretty close. Her hair was blonde, but a paler shade than Buffy's unless the latter bleached hers, which of course she tended to do.

High cheekbones and what was called a 'refined face' small boned and gracile.

Her nose was small and a little snub. Not quite like Buffy's, but again, close enough to make it easier for the spell. Her eyes were large and blue, not the hazel changing with her moods of Buffy.

Right now she looked like she hadn't washed her hair in weeks and otherwise a mess too, she was sure.

“Why don't we make some tea and clear up a little,” Joyce Summers said. “Things tend to look up with tea, and I personally think better in less of a mess.”

Guinevere winced again, then watched as the woman filled a kettle at her sink, with some difficulty since it was stacked full of plates and stuff.

Then she cleared the hob, again with some difficulty, and put the kettle to boil. The Slayers didn’t have their own proper kitchens, but all of them had a small hob, sink, a fridge and a set of cabinets so they could make tea, coffee and store extra snacks.

Joyce Summers started scraping food remains off plates into the bin. Even though some of it was covered in mould, or hardened like concrete, the woman’s face didn’t change, or show any disapproval.

Guinevere was pretty sure that was going to be very different once the food was there and she could yell at her in peace, without chance of interruption. 

She helped with piling plates and cups and other stuff, and putting dirty clothes in the laundry basket, instead of all around the small apartment.

It was amazing what ten minutes of determined, silent cleaning could do. Well, clearing up. There was a lot of cleaning yet to do. But then minutes of clearing revealed the couch and the floor, at least. 

Ten minutes of nerve-wracking silent clearing up that left her jittery and scared and jumping at every glance.

The food arrived, wheeled in on an otherwise empty trolley by the Slayer on cooking duty. Andrew had done part of that. Buffy had ordered all the food supplies checked for poison after he’d been shown to be a traitor, but that at least was something he hadn’t done.

The Slayer sniffed and opened her mouth to say something. Then Joyce Summers sent her a look and she gulped and scurried out. 

Guinevere wondered if ‘The Look’ that Buffy Summers used to rein in unruly Slayers might not be inherited, rather than some intrinsic part of the Prime Slayer. And why she directed it at the Slayer on kitchen duty rather than her. 

The woman probably wanted to ream her out in private and without anyone else getting their shots in first. Not that she wasn’t way too late for that.

Joyce Summers turned The Look on her. Crap. Buffy had inherited it. And apparently practice made it way, way stronger.

“Eat,” Joyce pointed at the plate. 

“I’m not hungry, really,” Guinevere tried weakly.

“I may be the world’s greatest expert on the care and feeding of angsty Slayers. Don’t even try,” Joyce intensified The Look.

Guinevere started eating while Joyce loaded the trolley with the piles of dirty cutlery and flatware. She fished one of Guinevere’s socks out from between two of them. 

Guinevere winced at the patient sigh that elicited from the woman. 

Finally she’d eaten enough to satisfy the Prime Slayer’s Mother. The capital letters fell easily in place in her mind. And the room was somewhat tidy. Ms Summers put her most recent dirty plate on the trolley and sat down again. 

“So, Jenny. You don’t mind if I call you Jenny, do you?”

Guinevere gulped, twice, and started to cry.

She realised only minutes later she was getting snot and tears on the shoulders of Ms Summers, Mother of the Slayer Prime. 

She tried to withdraw, but realised she couldn’t without hurting the woman. And doing that was liable to get her really killed. 

So she decided to make the most of it and have a nice long cry. After all, she was going to get killed afterwards.

When she came to herself, Joyce handed her a handkerchief. “So. Want to tell me what happened? I assume Rupert didn’t tell you to sleep with the so-called Immortal?”

Guinevere nodded miserably. “Cousin Rupert told me to be careful and not fall for him. I messed up. How did you know?”

Joyce shook her head. “Well, it seems that all my children forgot that Guinevere and Jennifer are basically the same name. And that Rupert might be a bit of an ass sometimes, this was going way too far even for him. And cousin? Did he know you were a Potential?”

Guinevere nodded. “He called us, but he was too late and the Bringers hit the house. My Mum and Dad and little sister...” she sobbed. “And then I went and hid. I couldn’t get to the US, they burned the house and I'd lost my passport and when he came to the UK, he found the house and thought I was dead.”

Joyce nodded. “I see. And when the Mass Calling went out, you admitted to being strong and he took you under his wing. And when you fell in love with the Immortal, he took the full rap for you, because he didn’t want you tainted with the same brush. Which was stupid. Buffy would’ve understood falling in love much better than being a honey trap. Then again, Rupert wasn’t able to understand Buffy a lot of the time.”

Guinevere bit her lip. “You make me sound very dumb.”

“Trust me, I got used to it long, long ago,” Joyce said in a dry voice. “Come on. We’re going to talk to Buffy.”

Guinevere squeaked. 

“And then we’ll go see Rupert. I feel an urgent need to have words with him.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 34**

Buffy was sitting on the couch while Willow was puttering in her kitchen and making hot chocolate while she wondered if her mom, just come back from the dead, had managed to get home alright again and what the hell she was going to do about Adam. Methos. Whatever. 

And one thing kept running through her head. And it wasn’t that he was Death. It was ‘thousands of years of toe-curling experience’. Drat Willow. 

There was a knock and she rose with a sigh to open the door. Dawn was in her room, having the fidgets because she was in the phase of a concussion when she was feeling alright and thought she should be able to do everything, which would lead to lots of problems down the line. 

She opened the door and looked up, if only a little, into eyes of Guinevere. She was about to tear the girl a new one when her mother popped into view. “Ah Buffy. Jenny has a few things to talk to you about.”

“Jenny?” Buffy blinked, as her mother steered the younger Slayer into the room and closed the door.

“Rupert’s young cousin, Guinevere. She fell in love with the wrong man,” Joyce said. “A very experienced one, who played her like a fiddle.” 

Buffy huffed at that old argument. “Angel didn’t play me.”

“That’s your opinion,” Joyce said. 

Willow looked in from the kitchen. “You’re Giles’s cousin?”

Guinevere nodded miserably.

“He was shielding you, wasn’t he?” Willow frowned. “He probably thought that he’d already such a bad relationship with Buffy and the rest of us that it’d be better if he got blamed, right?”

Guinevere nodded again. “I’m sorry.” 

Buffy sighed. “Giles is, like, a total idiot.”

“We can yell at him together. In the meantime, you should talk to this young lady,” Joyce said. “Jenny?”

Jenny looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. He was just… he was so good at being nice to me.”

Buffy snorted. “Kid, I know just where you’re coming from,” she shook her head. “I need to call Adam.”

“Why?” Willow asked.

“He knows more about the so-called Immortal. I think Jenny here needs to hear that he was worse than just a guy who liked to seduce girls.”

Guinevere winced. 

***************************************************************

Adam took a deep breath and rang the bell. The apartment Buffy shared with her sister was in the building next to headquarters. It was owned by the Council as well, but he didn’t think Buffy knew that. 

Buffy opened the door. He went in at her unspoken invitation.

“Hello Adam. You know Guinevere de la Pole? Her mother was a Giles,” Joyce said from the couch. 

Adam frowned. “Ah. So that was his reasoning.”

Guinevere groaned. 

“So. Can you tell Guinevere a little more about The Immortal?” Buffy asked.

Adam sat down. “He was, as far as we’ve been able to find out, about five hundred years old. He was born in Naples. His real name was Sebastiano Dati. He was a headhunter who dabbled in organised crime. Headhunter means that he actively sought other Immortals to fight and behead,” he clarified.

Guinevere grimaced. 

“He also had side-line in grooming young women, partly for prostitution and partly for his own pleasure,” Adam said. “He was supposed to be very good at it.”

“He was,” Guinevere said miserably. “He made me feel really special.”

“I bet he did, the piece of scum,” Buffy muttered. She reached out and took her hand. “Hey. Don't look so down. You're still nowhere near the top of the girls with bad boyfriends experience list. Or girlfriends, if we include Xander.”

“So I can't even screw up with the best of them?” Guinevere managed a watery smile.

Buffy laughed. “That's more like it. So you're Giles' cousin?”

Guinevere nodded again. “He’s my Guardian until I turn eighteen.”

“And he never mentioned that either,” Willow looked at Buffy, who shook her head.

“Right. As soon as he's awake, we give him a piece of our minds,” Buffy crossed her arms.

“Please don't kill him,” Guinevere pleaded. “He's just about the only family I have left.”

************************************************************* 

Ethan Rayne was not amused. They'd given the antidote to Ripper, who was slowly recovering, if still unconscious. At least he wasn't really comatose any more. But he could only leave the room under escort. And they locked him in, and into his bedroom-slash- cell. And they'd put chains on him. And Rosenberg had done something to the chains and he couldn't reach his magic.

That was very annoying and very worrying. It meant that he was going to have to get creative and depend on some of the other skills his interesting life on the run from various factions had taught him.

Ripper's eyes opened. He coughed and Ethan held a glass to his lips, carefully helping him drink.

Ripper looked at him. “Ethan. Where am I?”

“Council hospital room,” Ethan explained. “Your Slayer is not amused. At all.”

Giles made a face. “She hasn't been for a long time.”

“Yeah, well, she's not happy with me either. I'm pretty sure when you're not dying any more, you'll be in a lovely matching pair of these,” Ethan held up his manacled wrists.

“Well, if that means you don't make any trouble any more, that would be a price I'd be willing to pay,” Giles muttered, and faded back into sleep.

***********************************************************

“So. Feeling clever?” Buffy asked. Her mother was sitting with Dawn in her room and Willow was using some internet-y way to talk to Fred, with both girls trying to look down the other's shirt. 

It was cute, in a way. 

Xander was out buying supplies. As in, he'd found a store that sold Twinkies and Hoho's. In bulk.

“Not particularly,” Adam shrugged. 

“You played me like an expert,” Buffy said. “Like that Date-rape guy.” 

Adam smiled. “I wasn't playing you.”

Buffy snorted.

“I wasn't expecting to fall in love either,” Adam admitted. “I was hoping to help you set up a better Council than the last one had turned into and fade into the woodwork and possibly remove as much reference to Immortals and myself as I could.”

“Huh,” Buffy sighed. Her expression had softened considerably when he mentioned he'd fallen in love with her. “What do I even call you? Is Methos your name?”

“It was a name, I had it for a long time, when I was a god in the time before Egypt was unified,” Adam said. “But so were Horus and Osiris. I've had hundreds of names. Adam will be fine.”

“You really love me?” Buffy sat up. “That's what you just said, but how well do you know me? About the things I did? The things I messed up?”

“I probably have a more complete and objective view of what you did than you do,” Adam replied. “And you made some mistakes, but you did save the world quite a few times against overwhelming odds, then changed the odds. You've done nothing that even makes me blink.”

“I slept with two vampires,” Buffy said quietly. 

“At the same time?” Adam asked. 

“What? No!” Buffy spluttered.

“I rest my case,” Adam replied.

“What?” Buffy blinked at him. “Oh come on! You never did.”

“I was on Sicily at the time, at one of my estates, considering the next long term identity I was planning to take. So was the Scourge of Europe. Angelus and Spike were annoying and I decided to impersonate my impersonator,” Adam shrugged. “I wined and dined Darla and Drusilla. And I shackled Angelus and William the Bloody in the dungeon.”

“Wined and dined?” Buffy managed. 

“Well, they stayed a few months. Times were more languid then,” Adam lifted an eyebrow at her. “As for Spike and Angelus, I made a few sketches of them hanging in chains, wearing not very much, if you want to see them.”

“You didn't stake them,” Buffy said, manfully ignoring that remark. “Why not?”

“Two reasons. I was impersonating the Immortal, and he tolerated vampires. And unlike Dati, I actually have some sense of magic and some idea of prophecy, including ones I read and are now long gone. Their presence stirred a memory in me, or a premonition and I decided not to risk it.”

“You knew what might happen?” Buffy frowned. “That long ago?”

“Prophecy has surrounded them for quite some time. Drusilla is a seeress after all. Once they truly made a name for themselves, they became like all powerful forces for good or evil, in some ways mere pawns,” Adam explained. “In other ways, agents of change.”

“So you slept with Drusilla and Darla...”

“Separately and at the same time,” Adam nodded. “Several times, over a number of months. If it had been in character for the Immortal, I'd have prevailed myself of Angelus and William as well. I’m sure I could have seduced both of them as well.”

Buffy sputtered again. “What?”

“And I had them chained up. I'm sure the girls would have liked watching,” Adam grinned at her. “Apparently girls like to watch handsome men doing things like that.”

Buffy blushed and spluttered a little more.

“But the Immortal back then was all about the machismo. So even though there's nothing in my morals against it, I didn't,” he ended on a smirk. 

Buffy glared. “Bastard.”

“Probably, I don't think marriage as such existed when I was born,” Adam said. “But anyway, I've betrayed whole cities, sacked them, enslaved their people, had concubines and catamites, ruled from on high as an absolute and implacable tyrant and god. I've also saved the world, though probably not as often as you have. I caused the death of my Brothers, with whom I rode for thousands of years. I have manipulated people I loved and who trusted me. Trust me, nothing you've done and neglected to do is half as bad as anything I have.”

“You really slept with Darla and Dru?” Buffy shook her head. 

“Yes,” Adam sighed. “I really did.”

“That was why you didn't want to meet Angel and Spike, right? They know who you really are?”

“Right,” Adam agreed. 

“Can I be there when you do?” Buffy grinned. 

“I thought you liked them?” Adam smiled.

“I loved both of them. But Angel is Angel and Spike decided not to tell me he was back. I feel a little bit of vengeance is allowed.”

“I see. Well, I'm sure we can manage that,” Adam agreed. “So, how about I get you some lovely Roman food and we talk some more.”

Buffy smiled. “I think I'd like that. But I'm pretty sure mom and dad want to talk to you first.”

“Millennia of life and experiences and still every time I hear that phrase a shiver runs down my back,” Adam complained.

*************************************************************

“How old?” Hank whispered, shock clear on his face.

“At least five thousand,” Joyce was a bit pale too. “Well, that's certainly a jump.”

“I admit there's a certain age difference, but that's hardly the end of the world,” Adam said with aplomb. 

Buffy poked him with an elbow. “Are you sure? There isn't some prophecy that says the world will end if we get together?”

“I probably know more about prophecy than anyone else in the world, bar possibly Cassandra,” Adam said. “No.”

“But five thousand years,” Hank wondered. “I mean, how will you even be able to understand her?”

“I recently spent a few years acting like I was a student,” Adam said. “At least I'm not her TA.”

Buffy poked him again and glared. 

Joyce shook her head. “He's got a point.”

“Mom!” Buffy whined.

“So Duncan is a former border reiver. What's the worst thing you have done?” Hank asked.

“Before the events of the Twentieth Century I used to say that you couldn't even imagine, on the rare occasions I was truthful,” Adam said. “But I'm in a few books.”

“Revelations,” Buffy said. “The bit about the Horsemen.” 

Hank gulped. “Which one?”

“Death,” Adam admitted. “The last Apocalypse I helped stop was when Pestilence, my Brother, tried to bring make us ride again. Yes, that was a prophecy,” he told Buffy in an aside.

“Mac didn't know that,” Buffy said.

“Mac wouldn't know a vampire if she bit him on the arse,” Methos replied. “Let alone an apocalypse.”

“She?” Hank frowned.

“This is Duncan,” Joyce said, waving it away. “So. You're willing to use all your experience to keep Buffy and the others alive and happy?”

“Oh, yes,” Adam said cheerfully. “Gladly.”

This time Buffy and Hank spluttered.

Joyce just shook her head and sighed.

***************************************************************

When Giles woke up again, Ethan had been replaced by Guinevere. “Jenny?”

“Uncle Rupert,” she held his hand. “Buffy isn't here, but she told me to tell you you're, like, totally the dumbest ass ever.”

“Ah,” Giles winced as the pain in his chest reminded him why he preferred to sleep. “And why is that?”

“Well, she was annoyed you didn't just tell her the truth about me and Sebastian Dati. And that you didn't tell her I was your cousin. And for a lot of other things, which she says she wants to talk to you about at length,” Jenny smiled at him tremulously. “I should have talked to her myself, but I was so scared and angry...”

“You loved him,” Giles sighed. “I should have realised earlier and called her. Told her everything.”

“Yeah. You should have,” Buffy said, having silently slipped into the room. “There's lots of things you should have done, and lots of things you shouldn't have done.”

“Buffy,” Giles looked at her. She felt it was almost a longing look. “Yes. Many things. There are many things I should have done differently.”

“As long as we're agreed on that,” Buffy said. “We can see if we can, like, rescue anything.”

Giles took a deep breath. “That would be wonderful. But there is something else I need to tell you. Several things actually. Wolfram and Hart have some sort of hold on Jenny, Jenny Calendar's soul. They’ve been trying to make me toe their line through it, but I’ve been able to hoodwink them.”

“We know. Darius already had it removed. We're wondering if she should be one of the Champions we reclaim,” Buffy said matter of factly. “Also, you’re not really that great at not toeing the line.” 

Giles winced and looked as if he desperately needed to clean his glasses. “Ah. Already?”

“He's very effective,” Buffy assured him. “Hmmm.”

“What?” Giles asked. 

“Just wondering about something,” Buffy waved a hand. “So, other things?”

“Well you know about Jenny here.”

“And the dumb ass thing you did,” Buffy muttered.

“I tend to agree. I also think that Andrew may have messed up your father, and your relationship with him. And he may have done the same with Willow, Xander and you, and partly myself.”

“Yeah. Dad wants to have a word or two with you,” Buffy crossed her arms. “He's only recently heard about the Cruciamentum, and he totally wasn't amused.”

Giles nodded. “No more than I deserve.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. Buffy, I fear that Amy may try to use your mother's remains to power...”

His voice trailed away as Joyce came in. 

“Oh. Oh dear Lord.”

“The Earth is doomed?” Joyce's mouth quirked. “Don't worry, I'm in a lot better shape than Buffy was. And there’s no chance whatever of a breakthrough from the First.”

Giles nodded numbly. “Then there is one final thing. Buffy... I know you like him very much, and the last thing you need is me meddling with your relationships, but I am morally certain that Adam is an Immortal and not a young one.”

Buffy snorted. “You know Giles, it would have been very handy of you'd told us all this before you got hit by a Cruciamentum drug-laced bolt.”

“He did something terrible?” Giles winced.

“He's asked her out on a date,” Joyce said. “He's going to cook for her at home.”

“With all the restaurants in Rome,” Buffy whined. “It's just not fair. And it's not like he can't afford it!” 

“So you knew that too?” Giles asked.

“I wanted to know why the Juniors wanted to be rid of him, so I used Willow's 'Comp be hacked' program to read their files and they thought he was Immortal, so I was pretty sure. But the old thing took a while.”

“It took me a while too,” Adam said as he came in and put a hand on her shoulder. “Rupert. You're looking better. But we should let you rest soon.”

He took Giles' wrist and felt his pulse, then looked into his eyes. 

“Should I ask how old you are?” Giles wondered

“I don't really know,” Adam said. “But you set up your cousin to try and inveigle her way into my imposter's good graces.”

Giles shook his head. “I must be dreaming. I dreamt Ethan was here, too.”

“Oh, he was. We put him in the dungeon, with more chains. He tried to pick the lock on the first ones and get away,” Joyce smiled slightly. “I'm not entirely sure what we're going to do with him, but I'm sure it will be very orderly.”

Adam nodded. “I used to be a god of law and order. I may have some ideas on that.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Lately I've felt that Wolfram and Hart were able to influence me more than before.”

“Yeah, Ethan mentioned that too. Darius got rid of that as well,” Buffy said. “And we're, like, gonna have some long, intense conversations on the totally stupid stuff you did.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Author’s note:**

**Thanks to my splendid beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 35**

Buffy leaned back and looked at her clean plate, and the empty dishes and the supremely satisfied face of the man opposite her, lit by the gentle flicker of candle light. “You can cook,” she said accusingly.

“Well, yes,” Adam said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I told you I had held down every possible job in the world. Except astronaut. A little too high profile. I did work at NASA.”

Buffy snorted. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“Mostly in many places over a long period of time,” Adam said. “But I am a Cordon Bleu chef. Several times over. Actually, I’m a knight of the Ordre du Saint Esprit several times over, too. That's the origin of the term.”

“Show off,” Buffy stuck out her tongue.

“You did ask,” Adam grinned at her.

“About the cooking, not about the knighthood,” Buffy told him. “So. I assume all the ‘cousins’ with interesting artefacts are, like, you?”

Adam inclined his head. “Guilty.”

“And the cars are yours?”

“Yes,” Adam admitted.

“And the estates and the wealth?” Buffy grinned at him.

“Those too,” Adam smiled back. “We can go spend some of it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow you can make me a picnic and we can take a car and drive to some place outside Rome and you can tell me about yourself a bit more,” Buffy said. “You know a lot about me. I’d like to know a bit more about you.”

Adam smiled. “All the important things about me you already know. The rest is merely history.”

“A lot of history,” Buffy pointed out.

Adam shrugged. “A lot of history is very boring. I certainly tried to make it that way the past few thousand years. Excitement is dangerous.”

“Seriously? You lived for thousands of years ducking danger?” Buffy shook her head. “I kinda don’t buy that.”

“Well, I rarely go looking for it.” 

“Rarely?” Buffy leaned forward. “So when do you do?”

“When the reward is worth it,” he smiled at her. 

*************************************************************

“So he's taking her on a picnic lunch,” Joyce told Hank and Dawn. Dawn was in bed, again, and pouting, while Duncan was helping Anne with the Twins and Mary had latched on to Willow and Xander.

“And he’s a great cook,” Dawn pouted. “And he played the harp for her. And sang her a song.”

“She’s completely smitten,” Joyce agreed. “She wouldn’t shut up about him.”

“At least she’s admitted it now,” Dawn said. “She was so, like, totally Captain Oblivious.”

“A Ford Moment?” Hank grinned. 

“Complete with sudden, glaring clarity,” Joyce agreed. 

Hank frowned. “What about children?”

Dawn bit her lip. “Immortals can’t have any. Duncan told me.”

Joyce nodded. “I see. That was very honest of him.”

“I’m still going to date him,” Dawn said firmly. “He’s awesome.”

“And considering that music and song was the best way to entertain oneself for most of his life, I’m pretty sure he can sing. And since he was born in Scotland and speaks Gaelic, he probably plays the harp as well,” Joyce smiled. “So you can bore Buffy to tears in return.”

“After you’ve fully recovered,” Hank said firmly.

Dawn pouted.

***************************************************************

“So Buffy’s with an Immortal, too,” Faith crossed her arms. “Which you knew.”

Richie was looking at her. She was wearing a tight t-shirt and panties and looked delightfully tousled. 

“Yeah. I knew.”

“And you didn’t tell me, or anyone else,” Faith frowned at him. 

“I would have, if I thought he was a danger,” Richie defended himself.

“How sure are you he isn’t?” she asked. “Dangerous?”

“You’re alive, therefore he’s not a danger to you,” Richie said.

She opened her mouth to say something scathing, then saw his face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. He’s very dangerous. Possibly the most dangerous being alive. But not to you,” Richie repeated.

“Right. Dawn’s reeled in Mac. Are there any more of you guys around?”

“Well, you met Sean and Darius, but I doubt they're up for a bit of seduction,” Richie considered. 

“But you are?” Faith said challengingly. 

“I thought you were upset with me?” Richie smiled. 

“Not that upset.”

“How old?” Faith whispered to Richie as she sat up from where she'd been laying on his chest. 

“Really, really old. He's the guy who taught me to dowse for holy ground with my sword,” Richie said. “At least five thousand.”

“So… he’s like one of the oldest, right?”

“The oldest,” Richie reached up and pulled her back down. “He was worshipped as a god once, and it still sticks, so there’s that, too.”

“Bad boy?” Faith asked.

“Hoo, yes,” Richie nodded. “But good man.”

“Figures. B needs that bit of bad in her boy.”

**************************************************************

Buffy lay on a plaid travelling rug on her stomach with her ankles crossed and her chin on her hands, as Adam was making an omelette. She was wearing blue strap sandals and a turquoise dress which had slid down to the hollows of her knees. She lightly kicked her feet. 

He had to own the world's best picnic basket. It came with a little camp burner and pans and plates and everything.

All the girls were looking on jealously. 

She'd made sure that no one was too close, but some people were close enough to see how awesome the guy she was with was.

He smiled that crooked 'I know what you are thinking smile at her'.

That was an annoying one, but less annoying than the 'Make my insides melt and jump you smile'.

She was sooo not putting out on the second date. Even if Willow had pointed out that if you counted the stuff they'd done together while she was Miss Oblivious, they were easily beyond that.

Willow just wanted to know about the thousands and thousands of years of experience. 

Dammit, now she was thinking about it again too.

He put the hot jam from the little saucepan onto the omelette and folded it and then turned it and plated it and cut it in half. 

She was watching his hands all the time. His amazingly skilled hands. She bit her lip. 

“Something interesting?” he asked with a smirk.

The 'I know exactly what you are thinking about it and let's see how long you can hold out' smirk.

Bastard. But she now understood why Darla and Dru had, you know, shared him.

He was a magnificent bastard. He handed her the plate as she rolled into a lotus position to accept it. It was the finisher to their picnic. He'd brought a meat and egg pie, roast chicken, several cheeses, a salad, fresh crusty bread, several thick slices of various hams, some local sausages, a light wine, fruit juice, bottled water. He apparently knew a Slayer's love went through her stomach.

She sniffed delicately, the scent of the omelette filling her nose. She cut a bit with her fork, and took a bite. It was moist, perfect, warm. 

She glared at him. “So you can cook like this in a park and you fed me store bought pasta and canned tomatoes?”

“Yes,” he said without any guilt. “But as a matter of fact unless you make the pasta fresh from scratch, store bought pasta is pretty good. It was supposed to be dried for long storage. And canned tomatoes tend to be pretty good these days too.”

Buffy huffed and took another bite, closing her eyes in delight. 

“So, what do you want to know,” Adam said, after placing a few egg-sized stones on the corners of the picnic blanket and sitting next to her.

Buffy could sense the tingle from them. “Magic?”

“Willow made them for me, from an old recipe. They prevent people from listening in, among other things.”

“Other things? Where did you get the recipe?” 

“I spent some time as a Druid,” Adam replied. “They're called Serpents’ Eggs. They have several uses. I haven’t really been able to make any for a few centuries.”

“Why not?” Buffy lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Too few people know how to make them, it draws too much attention. And all my plots to have the recipes ‘found’ have failed,” he shook his head. “Almost as if someone didn’t want me to have them.”

Buffy nodded. “Poor boy. So. Tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?” Adam asked.

“If I say ‘everything’, we’ll be here a while, right?” Buffy smiled at him. “You said you didn’t expect to fall in love. Why not?”

“I usually don’t for a few decades after I lost a wife,” Adam replied. “I buried Alexa in 1996.”

Buffy blinked. “You were married for a long time?” 

“Less than a year,” he smiled sadly. “I’ve been married 68 times.”

“That’s not much in five thousand years,” Buffy pointed out. She decided to not ask about Alexa yet. He was clearly still mourning. She could totally get that.

“It’s the decades in between,” Adam said. “And of course there’s been a lot of times when ‘marriage’ isn’t the word that would be used these days.”

“What would they use?” Buffy frowned. 

“Slavery with Stockholm Syndrome?” Adam suggested. “And that does not include the harems full of men and women when I was king in various places. Though some of them may have loved me. Stranger things have happened.” 

Buffy looked at him. “Would you still do that?” 

Adam shook his head. “No.”

“And it was so long ago that the cities you ruled are crumbled in the dust and the statues they erected to you toppled like Ozymandias’s?” Buffy shook her head. “I know you did bad things. Quit trying to scare me away.”

“I may have a slight tendency to self-destruct my relationships,” Adam said with another slight smile. “Though I was actually just trying to warn you, in case I revert to my old Scourge of the Desert persona and tie you up in a tent to have my wicked way with you.”

Buffy glared at him. “Listen, Thief of Baghdad, you couldn’t tie me up in a tent if you tried, not without me letting you.”

Both Adam’s brows went up. “Really?” He purred. 

Buffy blushed and intensified her glare. “Shut it. Okay, Anything else? You can’t have children, right?”

A slight emotion that might have been sadness flashed across Adam’s face. “No. Though there are a few families that I keep an eye on for old time’s sake.”

Buffy nodded. “Right. And you were the Guardian of the North. Did you have anything to do with the Shadow Men?”

“No, they were a bunch of wankers,” Adam shrugged. “There was a group of different immortals back then, though they were easier to kill. They set themselves up as defenders of the Slayer line, opposed to them. They called themselves the Guardians. There may have been a Scythe involved.”

“Huh. So you knew of them?” Buffy frowned. “Why didn’t you get involved with the thing with the First?”

“It sent some fifty odd Bringers after me,” Adam shrugged again. “And I managed to save about two dozen Potentials, though most of them wouldn’t know it.”

Buffy frowned in thought. “Vi said that someone helped her, and Molly that after her Watcher was killed… But they were thousands of miles from each other. How?”

“I used to be the Guardian. The Dream Ways are dangerous, but I know how to use them,” Adam smiled slightly. “The First annoyed me a bit. So I decided to annoy it back.”

“Took on the shape of Alexa?” Buffy asked carefully.

“It can’t do things like that around me,” Adam said. “It’s the aura of death that surrounds me.”

“Useful,” Buffy said.

“Also I wasn’t stuck on a roiling Hellmouth, that would alter the perceptions of anyone,” Adam pointed out. “I try not to spend too much time on any of those.”

“Huh. Is there a safe time?”

“There’s no such thing as safe on a Hellmouth, the things twist your mind,” Adam said. 

“Is that what happened to Amy?” Buffy frowned.

“Willow went quite a ways to evil and she didn’t continue once she got off it. I’d say that Miss Madison made her choice,” Adam said gently. “And it was the wrong one.”

Buffy grimaced. “Lovely subject for a picnic conversation. So, what’s your favourite colour?”

“Blue. No red.”

Buffy laughed. “Care to tell me the air speed of an unladen swallow?”

“No, but I can tell you a lot about Arthur.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta on this, Cordyfan. Ever patient, ever sure.**

**Chapter 36**

The fact that he was sitting in a comfortable chair at a low table, with several others placed around it, and not in front of a table like a criminal at judgement was some small comfort to him.

That they had gone through some trouble to cure him of poison, another.

But the fact remained that they had very little reason to trust him, and Buffy even less than the others.

He had no-one but himself to blame. 

“So. What have you got to say for yourself?” Buffy asked.

Her tone implied he'd better make it good, or else.

“I can say few things in my own defence,” he began. “But I can try and explain, so that at least you may understand how I got myself into this situation.”

He took a deep breath. “Until the death of... Glory... I did not realise that Wolfram and Hart had Jenny's soul. It was only after I had gone back to Britain that their London office contacted me, to use me as an additional source of information on the Council.”

Buffy nodded. “Okay. So the Cruciamentum?”

“Was completely my own spinelessness,” Giles said. “I should never have agreed to it.”

“Did that have to do with what happened to Miss Calendar?” Buffy asked.

“It might have. The affair concerning Angelus did worry and anger me greatly,” Giles admitted. “It wasn't consciously part of my decision to cooperate with the Council. It was a bloody stupid thing to do. I can never apologise for it enough,” he lowered his head. 

“Right. Well you redeemed yourself for that,” Buffy said. “You could have left once they stopped paying. Even if they didn't pay me either.”

“Of course in your first year at College, I messed up again,” Giles continued.

Buffy snorted. Willow giggled. 

Xander shook his head. “We were all being a bit flaky at the beginning of that year, Giles. Did you ever find out if the Council knew anything about what Walsh was doing?”

Giles smiled slightly. “No, but I suspect that Wolfram and Hart did. Had the Council been involved, Walsh would have been convinced of the fact that magic existed before she started work.”

Willow nodded in agreement. “Yeah. That makes sense. And the year after, bar a few incidents that had guilt on both sides, I don't think there was much to blame each other for.”

“Got scolded for lifting components, honey?” Joyce lifted an eyebrow and Willow blushed.

Giles smiled again. “I do wish I had paid more attention to your progress in magic, Willow. I might have saved you a great deal of grief.”

“And the world a near-death experience,” Willow said miserably. “But I kinda think I wouldn't have learned without getting burned.”

“I never took it seriously until Randall died,” Giles admitted. “So that may be the only way for some people, like you and me.”

“And then I died,” Buffy said. “And you headed for Britain.”

Giles nodded. “I expected the others to sell and move away, if at all possible. And I was considering what I might do to gain the release of Jenny's soul.”

“How did they get control of her?” Buffy frowned.

“She signed a student loan agreement?” Xander asked.

Giles shook his head, mouth quirking. “No. She was interested in power back then. She joined a group of techno-pagans active at MIT, but they had contacts with Wolfram and Hart. She accepted services without fully understanding what they meant at the time.” 

“Like?” Buffy frowned. “Dead rivals?”

“Mostly a higher grade point average and possibly some anti-hangover potions,” Giles said. “She mentioned some things like that. It wasn't much, but with the family onus for the curse on Angelus, they were able to place a hold on her soul, I believe.”

“Darius said it took them an effort to get hold of it,” Joyce pointed out. “That would fit.”

“True.”

“I didn't realise what was happening in Sunnydale until, well, until you were brought back,” Giles said apologetically. “I should have kept in closer touch.”

“I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have called you and said, 'Hey Giles, I'm gonna use a dark ritual to bring Buffy back from the dead’,” Willow sighed. 

“And I wanted to be away from you to lessen the chances they could make me hurt you,” Giles shook his head. “So even though I realised you needed me, I also knew you were particularly vulnerable to their influence, so to prevent them from acting through me, I left.”

“And of course that was probably what they wanted you to do,” Joyce said.

“Now that I look back on it, that is very likely,” Giles agreed glumly. “There's very little they could have made me do that would have had a worse result than what I decided to do myself.”

“They may have pressured you to do it, somehow,” Xander pointed out. “They're sneaky bastards that way.”

Giles smiled at him. “Thank you, Xander. But no matter what, I got myself into that position. And it is too late now to find out if they were influencing me other than the way I thought they were.”

Buffy nodded. “Anything else?”

Giles pursed his lips. “Well... I'm pretty sure they wanted me to press the Council to get the Devon Coven to execute Willow. But that may be my impression.”

Willow gulped. “I thought they might have been discussing that.”

“But I couldn't bear the thought, and I assumed that since you came back from the brink on your own, by which I mean that it was a moral decision aided by Xander, not force of magic that did it,” he turned to Xander. “There's a group of witches who really want to meet you, by the way.”

“Ummm... You know my luck with supernatural women, right?” Xander asked cautiously.

Willow giggled, though she still looked stricken. “Well, if it's the elders of the Coven, you'll be running from the cougars, not the mantis.”

Xander groaned. 

Buffy laughed and Giles smiled. 

“At any rate, I had little to do with that victory.”

“You won the victory for her life. I'm pretty sure the thing against the First would totally have gone wrong, if Willow hadn't been there,” Buffy said.

“They didn't want the First to win either.” Giles pointed out. “But if anything I did helped keep you alive, Willow, I am happy that I did it.”

“So am I,” Joyce squeezed Willow's hand. 

“And then we get to the last period in Sunnydale. I was not aiding The First, since it is opposed to Wolfram and Hart. They wanted us to win, to be able to bring about their own apocalypse. But they did hope to weaken us, you, by dividing you.”

“You, not us?” Buffy challenged.

“By that time, I feel I was no longer thinking clearly enough to distinguish between their wishes and my own,” Giles said. “I was not as far gone as Andrew by any means. But no longer my own man. There were many things I could have done which I didn't.”

“Such as?” Willow asked.

“For one I had access to funds, not unlimited ones, but I would have been able to help support the girls. I might also have suggested different premises, and acted more like an adult voice of reason rather than a goad to all your tempers,” Giles sighed. “I think now that Andrew's presence weakened my own resolve, possibly through spells.”

“We like, shouldn't have let him in the kitchen,” Buffy muttered. “He probably totally put stuff into our food.”

“Not unlikely, though possibly not magical but rather mood-altering substances,” Giles frowned. “At any rate, the matter of Spike, though I was worried about his stability, had I been fully in charge of my own sense, I feel I would have acted differently.”

“Why did they want him gone? I'd think they'd want whatever strength they could get to fight the First?” Buffy asked. 

“He was a second vampire with a soul, and one who sought it himself. One of the ways for them to guide Angel towards their own vision of the apocalypse was through use of the Amulet, which they would then regain. They would have controlled it, and through it, him, much like Angel could have controlled Spike, had he had the stomach to perform the necessary rites.” 

“Might have gone that way if he'd known he could,” Xander muttered.

Willow nodded her agreement. “He might even have done it with the soul, just to annoy Spike even more.”

Giles nodded in agreement. “And then there was the… Well, I should have been the voice of reason when things broke after the failed attack on the vineyard, yet I was not. Part of that may have been Wolfram and Hart. Part of it may have been my growing frustration at your independence, no matter that it was caused by my own actions.”

Buffy looked thoughtful. “You seemed pretty over that during the fight against Glory.”

“Also I was afraid. Deathly afraid. For all of you, myself, for the world,” Giles took off his glasses. “I lost faith in you, dear girl, and I should never do that. No matter what the odds, no matter what the cost to yourself, you will eventually, always find a way, always pull the world’s fat out of the fire. I should have remembered that at least.”

Willow and Xander looked ashamed. Joyce looked thoughtful. “Sounds like we’ll need to talk about all that some more.”

Giles nodded. “Once the fight against the First was finished, and we found our footing, they felt that I was an even greater asset. But the spells Willow had cast to prevent influencing by means of spells meant that I had greater freedom than in Sunnydale. I was still unable to confess all and throw myself on your mercy however.”

“And then the Immortal. What was that about?” Buffy frowned. “Was that them?”

“It might have been. But the Immortal was rumoured to have vast knowledge of magic and the supernatural and we needed allies, badly. You were unwilling to listen to my advice, which was only to be expected. No Slayer would trust me completely, due to my less than accepted status. So I pressured Guinevere into accepting it.”

“And Andrew cast the spell,” Willow nodded. 

“He probably expected the whole thing to end in tears,” Giles said glumly. “I should have realised that I was sending her into a honey trap.”

“Yes, we'll have words about that later,” Joyce's eyes narrowed. “The poor girl, orphaned and then you pull that? I think you owe her as many apologies as you do Buffy.”

Giles winced. “Yes. I do. I owe all of you apologies.”

He spread his hands. “Which I do. I apologise, unreservedly, both for my actions before and after I was fool enough to let Wolfram and Hart get their hooks in me.”

“Well. We got whatever hold they had on you removed. If you screw up again, it's all your fault,” Buffy said. “But I totally can understand how difficult it is to let go of love, no matter the pain it's causing.”

************************************************************

Giles was in the centre of one of the long sides of the table, with Buffy at the head and Joyce opposite him. Hank was sitting in as well, since he had made it quite clear he felt himself to be among the injured parties.

The Twins had been handed over to Candy and Peggy to entertain and Guinevere had the oversight of 'Little Miss Curious', which had sent titters through the room. 

Though Willow had not been as amused when the question was asked what her nickname would be now.

Anne had decided to go shopping in the child-free time.

“So. They've been working against us for years. They work for Wolfram and Hart and a member of the Circle of Black Thorn. They betrayed us and laboured towards an apocalypse. They tried to use Mom as a vessel for a Theurgy.”

Willow stopped her summation. “Anything else?”

“Probably lots,” Buffy shook her head. “But I think that's totally enough.”

Giles had started when Willow referred to Joyce as her mother and was now looking thoughtful. “There is very little to recommend mercy. Both have had plenty of chances. Jonathan wasn't involved in the latest events, but he was a major part of the earlier ones.”

Faith, splashed across a screen on the wall, nodded. “I'm pretty sure all three would start their little games again as soon as they could.”

“I could cut them off from their magic,” Willow frowned. “But they would still be traitors and murderers.”

“And no court is going to convict them. No court but us.”

“Actually they supplied Knox with information about the Deeper Well from the Council archives, assisting his theft of the Sarcophagus of Illyria. Which puts them under the jurisdiction of the Guardians. They would convict them, even South. Though under the Stone, they would not be considered in breach,” Adam added. “Since Wolfram and Hart would want them dead just as much. The last thing they want is for God Kings of the Primordium to wander about.”

“You're an Advocate too, aren't you?” Buffy said wryly. 

“Yes,” Adam admitted. “Last time I did anything was quite a while ago, as Adam of Bremen.”

“Oh dear lord,” Giles muttered. 

Willow whistled. “Wow. He did some impressive things.”

“Thank you,” Adam grinned. “And anyway, I was given jurisdiction over crimes in London and the surrounding area for the duration of my life by Hadrian, so no one can say the court has no standing. Should anyone complain.”

“There's no longer a Roman Empire,” Willow pointed out. “Hasn't been an Emperor for, like, sixteen hundred years.”

Adam lifted an eyebrow. “Details. And the last Roman Emperor of the Eastern Empire-”

Xander coughed. “X-nay on the history-kay.”

Giles took off his glasses. “Right. Delightful though all that is, we still don't know what we are going to do with them.”

“Changing them into animals is a possibility,” Willow said. “But someone else might change them back.”

“Let's just chop their heads off and be done with it,” Faith suggested.

“I happen to be quite good at that,” Adam agreed. 

Everyone looked at him. He shrugged. “I may not actively look for heads to hunt anymore, I have more under my belt than Mac does. People do attack me for some reason.”

“Probably your charming personality,” Buffy smiled at him.

“You seriously...” Hank began, then stopped.

“If your question is, will I hesitate to kill people who threaten those I love and care about, who threaten the whole world, the answer is no,” Adam replied gravely. 

Giles looked around the table. “I fear I have no stomach for it. I knew them before, and I still have those images in my mind. But I would do it.”

“I already said I would,” Adam pointed out. “I don't like killing anymore, but I'm still very good at it.”

***********************************************************

Adam walked into the cell. Amy glared at him defiantly. “So they sent you in? Scared to come in themselves?”

“No, they remember you as you were, not what you have become. So I'm sparing them the pain,” Adam replied as he put down a small leather valise and pulled out a number of bottles.

“What are those?” Amy asked.

“Various poisons I ran into during a long life,” Adam replied. “Which are lethal but painless, and very fast.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“You can also pick the sword, though hanging was traditional for witches. Or being crushed by great weights,” Adam opened the seal on a disposable syringe and drew a small amount of poison into it. “This should be enough.”

Amy looked at him. “What gives you the right to do this?”

“The same right you have to summon a Theurgy and try and rule the world through it, I have to prevent it,” Adam said. 

“That's about heat of battle, right?” Amy withdrew to the wall, eyes wide. “After that comes forgiveness, rehabilitation. You're the good guys!”

“Whatever gave you that idea, Miss Madison?” Adam shook his head. “Now are you going to go quietly, or do I have to get violent?”

*************************************************************

Jonathan whimpered when he saw him.

“A problem, Mr Levinson?” Adam asked.

“I saw you. When I woke. I saw you,” Jonathan whispered. 

“Ah. And what did you see, Mr Levinson?” Adam prepared another clean syringe.

“Like an angel of death, your wings spread. A thousand years of worship behind you,” Jonathan bared his arm. 

“You didn't want to come back, did you, Mr Levinson?” 

Jonathan shook his head. “It's too much. Too much. Not enough. I don't know. I thought I'd paid. I'll pay again. Too much.”

Adam nodded. “And I'll give you peace, Mr Levinson.” 

*********************************************************

“Adam!” Andrew said eagerly. “Adam, I need you to-” he fell silent at Adam’s look. 

“If you’re going to try and convince me that it was all a brilliant ruse on your part, I fear that I didn’t fall for that kind of bull when they first offered bridges for sale,” Adam put his valise down and took out the poison.

Andrew looked at it as if it was a snake. “What’s that?”

“A lethal injection that will painlessly end your life,” Adam said. 

“What? You can’t! You don’t have the right!” Andrew protested.

“Oh, we do. The Council has a lot of leeway in dealing with the supernatural and those who meddle with it,” Adam told him. “We know everything, Andrew. You confessed. You’re going to die. You might as well face it with as little dignity as you can manage.”

Andrew bared his teeth. “I’ll come back to haunt you!”

Adam snorted. “Boy, that’s something I haven’t heard before ten thousand times.”

Andrew blinked. “What?”

“Spirits don’t haunt me, Andrew,” Adam smiled. “Spirits flee from me. Just feel lucky that we aren’t letting your soul get claimed by Vail or Wolfram and Hart. Maybe on your next time round, you can do better.”

Andrew looked at the loaded syringe. “Who are you?”

“Someone who was old before the law was even conceived of, Andrew.”

*********************************************************

“Mr Rayne,” Adam entered the final cell. “People are talking about the idea that you might be saved.”

Ethan looked at him. “And you’re here?”

“I am a sterling example of how people can change, Mr Rayne. But it took me some time to do so,” Adam opened his valise. “And I at least, was neither enamoured of nor servant to, chaos. I was merely its instrument.”

Ethan nodded. “Yeah. Biggest damn instrument ever. Methos.”

Adam nodded. “Quite. So you know that when I offer you this,” he removed a piece of paper. “If you do not sign, you will join Miss Madison, Mr Levinson and Mr Wells.”

“Why am I not immediately joining them?” Ethan asked. 

“Because oddly enough, none of your stunts have killed anyone. Not even the one with Halloween, not even the Band Candy incident. Not even the Rain of Swordfish in the London Opera House.”

Ethan grinned. “That one was fun.”

“No doubt. So?”

Ethan weighed the paper in his hand. “This would make me part of the establishment.”

“It’s that or part of the graveyard,” Adam said. “And have you ever considered the many and varied ways in which the current leadership of the Council have confronted their opponents? A rocket launcher against the Judge? High explosives against an Old One?”

“Recruiting Death as Chief Watcher,” Ethan grinned. “Cor, I’ll be doing even more chaos than before!” 

He signed. “What will the others say?”

“This will kill you if you stray. If you do, you will die in ways you cannot even imagine,” Adam took the paper. 

“Ways?” Ethan blinked.

“You think I’m not allowed a little leeway, considering who I am?” Adam lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll stay here until I’ve told the others. Then I’m sure Rupert will want a word. With a blunt, silver spoon.”

Ethan winced.

****************************************************************

“You recruited Ethan?” Buffy asked.

“He’s among the most accomplished and powerful mages of his generation. He knows Chaos is killing him. He’s too proud to admit he buggered it up. He’s signed a contract that will kill him if he breaches it and the Devon Coven is going to be watching him like a hawk. Not to mention he can think outside the box and annoys Rupert.”

Giles glared at him. “I say!”

Buffy smiled in spite of the situation. “Okay. What made you decide to risk this?”

“He knew he wouldn’t be allowed to get away when he approached us about the London Temple. He did that anyway. And he’s always gone out of his way not to get people seriously injured, except their pride, with his stunts.”

“I have to admit the Gran Ol' Wedgie at the Gran Ol’ Opie was amusing,” Xander said reluctantly.

“And the changing of all the music in the exhibits at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,” Willow said.

“Elvis singing about Smurfs. Classic,” Buffy agreed.

She looked around. “So we give him a chance. One chance.”

“And if he messes up, he dies,” Adam said. 

**End Note:**

**And there we have the matter of trial, judgement and execution.**


	37. Chapter 37

**Author’s Note:**

**Many thanks to my beta, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 37**

“Well. Here we are again,” Buffy looked around the Hyperion’s entrance hall. Huge piles of big boxes were scattered around it and more boxes were lined along the walls. 

“Yeah, you might consider starting to pay for staying here,” Cordelia said, crossing her arms.

“Should we send you a bill for making sure you weren’t killed by various demonic possessions?” Buffy replied sweetly.

“Girls,” Joyce said. 

Buffy and Cordelia, who had looked ready to settle into a long argument, instead settled into silence. Grumpy silence, but still silence. Cordelia also threw her some incredulous looks. 

“Anyway, we bought the mortgage from Nabbitt, so we do actually have some claim to the place, especially with the way Angel has, like, been with the non-payment,” Willow looked around. “Hey, Dennis.”

The sugar bowl whirled.

“Fred’s upstairs,” Cordelia grinned. “Dolling herself up. Looking good there, Rosenberg.”

Willow blushed. “Sometimes a girl just wants to look good.”

“I always look good,” Cordelia said. “So. Why are you here? To cart away some of the stuff that Wolfram and Hart have been delivering?”

“We’re gonna go through that pretty thoroughly,” Buffy looked at the boxes again. “We may need some more people.”

“Happily you brought an expert on magical traps,” Ethan spoke up. “Let me at ‘em. Is there a list of what’s supposed to be in here?”

Cordelia pointed at a pile of papers on the reception desk. “Wesley’s been drooling over them, but he can’t get the boxes open.”

“They’re sealed to members of the Council,” Ethan said. “He isn’t one. I'll do a quick check, on him too, since he’s probably picked up half a dozen curses by now and then we need to ask the Devon Coven to send some help.”

“Can't do it alone?” Cordelia sneered. “Why did you bring this guy anyway, Buffy?”

“Because he's got a mind like a corkscrew and lots of experience,” Buffy said. “And he never tried to raise a god, cause an apocalypse or actually kill people.”

“Confusion is Chaos. Death just happens,” Ethan agreed. “This one will cause a compulsion to have sex.”

Everyone looked at him. He smiled wryly. “Seriously. Don't touch it.”

“What use would that be?” Cordelia asked.

“Might be someone under age, or in a committed relationship,” Ethan said. “The first would be a lovely court case, the second, well people are strange about sex, even friends. Right, Ripper?”

“Well, it does explain why Wesley went off to ‘be alone’ after he touched it.”

*********************************************************

Angel was looking more gloomy than usual. That was saying something, in Spike's experience. He had the Celtic gloom and doom thing down even when he didn't have a soul.

Not that Spike felt much better. He'd managed to ruin his chances with Buffy completely by not telling her he was alive. Back. Whatever. He should have had Fred find and call her the second he got from the bloody amulet.

They'd have been faster to get his body back than Poofy, son of Broody McAngsty had. They had the resources. And they weren't Demonic Murder Inc.

Fred was at the Hyperion already, getting gussied up for Red. Cordy had said the UST had been thick enough to bake and run through an electric bread slicing machine the first time they met. 

Not one of Queen C's best, but pretty descriptive.

Spike had seen the later ones. It made him think it might be worth making a wish to be a fly on that window. 

At least Fred had a chance with Red. Spike had about as much chance with Buffy as the Poof had of winning the Mr Cheerful Personality Award. 

Gunn and Wesley were annoyed because Fred wasn't paying attention to them. And Wesley was annoyed that he couldn't touch all the books that W&H were sending over to the Hyperion, since Buffy hadn't allowed him back into the Council.

The car drew up in front of the Hyperion. There was another car there that wasn't a rental. A banana yellow Aston Martin. Real classy.

The Poof sighed and got out of the car. Spike followed, sauntering. He was not gonna let anyone see that he was pining after Buffy. 

He saw Angel freeze and heard his growl. He saw the reason for his reaction seconds later. 

“You!” Angel roared. “Get away from her!”

Adam shook his head. “I know you want attention too, but yelling for it isn't going to make it happen, Angel.”

Angel growled again. 

Spike was pretty sure from Buffy's look that at least the Poof wasn't going to be getting close to her any time soon.

***********************************************************

Darius sat at the head of the oval table and looked down it. Dennis and him had spent two evenings setting it up, cleaning and polishing it. It felt good working with his hands.

Buffy was opposite him, leaning to her right, where Adam was saying something that was making her smile. 

Angel and Spike were in the middle of her left hand side, looking glum, with Wesley and Gunn. Gunn had sat down between the two vampires. Joyce was on Buffy's left, probably as a buffer between her daughter and the vampires. Giles was next to Wesley.

They all had a good view of Willow and Fred, heads together and giggling. They were probably playing footsie and handsie under the table. Xander was next to Adam and Faith next to Fred and Richie next to her and Ethan Rayne to him.

Mac was back in Rome, keeping Dawn occupied at things that wouldn't worsen her concussion. Which excluded a lot of things that Dawn wanted to do with her new four hundred year old boyfriend.

Duncan happily had more sense than that. And a healthy dose of respect for her parents and sister.

“Okay,” Willow straightened. “The room is safe.”

“Safe?” Angel asked.

“Can't use magic or technology to listen in on us,” Fred said. 

“Which would be of the bad,” Willow added. 

“Right,” Buffy sat up as well. “Darius? I know we got a whole boatload of books and items. Did we get anything else?”

“We got a lot of money, and real estate,” Willow piped up. “That factory site near the Cleveland Hellmouth we wanted but the owner didn't want to sell. A couple of others.”

“A lot of magic,” Ethan said. “Some things I was pretty sure were destroyed.”

“I took the liberty of sending a list and having Darius ask after each one,” Adam grinned.

Darius inclined his head. “It was my pleasure. Watching Marcus Hamilton react to each of them was very amusing.”

“So,” Angel tried not to grind his teeth. “What do we do now?”

“We get rid of some of Wolfram and Hart's top operators. Then we cripple them even more by making sure they can't bring them back,” Buffy said. 

**********************************************************

Willow and Fred had been talking. Darius and Adam had been talking as well. Angel had scowled, but Spike had figured out he'd had his shot and he'd better gather up the pieces of his heart and see what he could make of his life. Unlife. At least he had a soul and the Council trusted him, even if they thought he was an idiot.

“How're you going to get in there?” he pointed. 

“We have our ways,” Adam smiled. “Very sneaky ways.”

Spike nodded. “Sebasis is a self-satisfied idiot. But he's got legions of demons, and they aren't wimps. And he wasn't always a self-satisfied idiot, so he may surprise you yet. And there'll be two or three eager young aides waiting in the wings to take over. I think it's some trial by combat thing, who wins.”

Adam nodded. “I'm counting on it.”

Spike put his hands into his coat pockets. “Really? Should be interesting then.”

************************************************************

The headquarters of the Legions of Hell were luxurious. Thousands of armed and armoured demons swarmed through the barracks, served by thousands more of a less warlike nature. 

Whole villages of slaves served to produce, and as, food.

The Commandant's House was full of laughter as well, as Sebassis was showing through his largesse that he was in control, in spite of the rumoured setbacks on Earth and Pylea, only whispered about in the quietest way. 

The Officers' Mess was full of raucous song and laughter. 

The Warrant Officers' Mess was quiet and reserved. Sergeants, after all, had to give a good example, whereas everyone knew that officers were spoiled assholes.

The portals opened in the Commandant's Private dining room, and in the Officer's and Warrant Officer's messes at the same time. 

Groups of young women, silent and deadly, came through. Sebassis was cut in two by a young blonde wielding a Scythe that sang with power and anger.

Ten minutes after they had invaded, they left, taking their wounded and leaving only dead enemies.

Twenty minutes later, the Legions were fighting among themselves for who would command.

************************************************************

The fleshpots of the Sahrvin clan were filled with the meat of man. It was tradition, and it gave them strength. Only the fiercest men would fight them, because they knew what would happen if they failed. 

It was what made their leader worthy to be a Black Thorn. That and his cunning.

The man who strolled into their camp was tall, yes, and he didn’t seem to fear them. He didn’t fear the pots. He stopped by everyone, stooped and tasted their contents.

“You should roast those bits, they taste better that way,” he told them.

The clan leader rose. “You have eaten of man?”

The man looked at them. His lip curled. “Well, not this badly prepared, no.”

“Who are you that you claim this?” the Clan leader demanded.

The man grinned. “Among your people, I am known as the Eldest Brother of He Who Eats Brains.”

The Sahrvin fell silent. 

“Why are you here?” the clan leader asked, warily respectful.

“I thought I’d share a meal,” the man said with a shrug. “But right now I’m thinking I should teach you how to serve man.”

The clan leader looked at him and then laughed, slapping his thighs. The stranger walked through the camp, suggesting seasoning and other things.

Then the first Sahrvin started to vomit. Soon, all of them were doing it. Blood and guts poured from their mouths as the Elder Brother of He Who Eats Brains watched dispassionately.

********************************************************** 

Senator Brucker was asleep in her well-protected Los Angeles house, after giving a small party for some friends when she was unexpectedly struck by an aneurysm. 

No one but Wolfram and Hart noted the fact that some of the security camera footage seemed a bit too quiet. And that a few small but valuable items, that weren't strictly the Senator's to begin with, had gone. 

That her posthumous reputation was in tatters within a week because of revelations regarding her private life and the more than a little illegal art collection of larger pieces was another matter entirely.

********************************************************

“Didn’t expect you to be here,” Spike said. “What with you being all over the Nibblet and all.”

“I’m not all over her,” Duncan said with dignity. “And anyway, I ran into these things, or at least a group that provided them with sacrifices before. I want them gone.”

“Fair ‘nuff,” Spike nodded and loosened his sword. “They’ve mostly been coasting on their reputation I feel. Fell Brothers my arse.”

“Then let’s go show them what real fighting is like,” Duncan said grimly. 

“So who’s with the Nibblet if you’re not entertaining her?”

“Hank bribed Peggy and Candy with copious chocolate and the threat of his ex-wife. And babysitting Mary.”

“Sounds like an interesting kid,” Spike grinned. “Let's go and have a bit of a scrum, shall we?”

*********************************************************** 

It was an expensive restaurant. Izzerial wouldn't be seen dead at anything that wasn't expensive as well as good, of course. The good was more important than the expensive, after all being able to drop into a conversation that you'd 'discovered a delightful little place' was half the fun of going to restaurants and parties. 

One-upmanship was an art form. 

But for their usual weekly dinner, they always went to the same place.

There were things to discuss that didn't really fit into the Black Thorn meetings.

They were leaving, laughing at some joke Bradford had made about the submissiveness of teenagers and female vampires when they were stopped.

“Good evening,” a polite young man with curly hair said to them. “Thomas Brown, aka Thomas Glaive?”

Tom sighed. “Can we do this some other time?”

“No, I understand you say that a lot and then people get found shot and beheaded,” the young man said. “If you'll excuse us, gentlemen?” 

He nodded at the others. 

“We'll send the car back for you, Tom,” Izzy told him. “Try not to fry too many electrical appliances.”

Tom laughed. “What's your name, kid?”

“Richard Ryan,” Richie smiled like a shark. 

The others saw Tom's perturbed expression, but got into the car. It drove off. Then it made a wrong turn and there was a gut-wrenching transition.

“What?” Izzy pressed the intercom. “What're you doing Cooley?”

“Mr Cooley ain't doing the driving,” the partition sank down just as the car drove into an underground parking garage.

There was no parking garage like this so near the restaurant. It was far too run-down.

The brunette young woman in the chauffeur's uniform smiled at them, drawing a sword.

“Faith Lehane. You can't kill me,” Izzy sniffed. “It would need the power of a god.”

“Yeah. Got plenty of candidates to deal with that,” Faith said. Her sword licked out and cut the throat of Bradford.

The doors were opened and two more Slayers pulled out Izzy and Jake. There was a tall, blonde woman, older than the Slayers who was holding her sword rather awkwardly and looking at him with the same sort of look he gave babies and lobsters in tanks.

She lunged. He expected the sword to bounce off, but it stabbed straight into one of his hearts. He looked down stupidly.

“Meet Ms Summers. Your friend Vail had her brought back from the dead and infused with the power of Black Isis. She’s pretty pissed at you people by the way. Or should I be real polite and say ‘perturbed’?” Faith said cheerfully as she carved Jake to bits.

Ms Summers had withdrawn her sword and then stabbed him in the other heart. 

Izzy's vision flickered out. It was almost a good thing he was going to die, this would have been very embarrassing to talk about otherwise.

************************************************************

“So you’ve come for me.” Vail sniffed. “Do you really think you can match me, Wyndham-Pryce?”

“No,” Wesley said. “I think I'm the decoy.”

Willow stepped from the shadows and threw a fire ball at him. He barely managed to deflect it.

He threw a bolt of lightning at her, but then had to block a greenish ball of fire from Wesley.

The floor underneath him started to writhe and he scowled and rose up in the air.

“Hi!” Buffy said cheerfully from behind the aged sorcerer. “I'm Buffy. I slay things.”

The Scythe cut Vail in half, from top to bottom. It seemed quite pleased as Willow and Wesley set fire to the remains.

**************************************************************

“You destroyed the Circle of The Black Thorn!” Hamilton spat. “During a case before the Stone!”

Darius lifted an eyebrow. “The Circle of The Black Thorn isn't a part of this proceeding. It is clearly stated in the Articles of Armistice that only parts of the Signees organisations that are declared to the Stone are part of the Armistice. And that engaging in hostile actions while a case is before the Stone negates that anyway. Mr Vail directed his apprentices and he was part of the Circle, as such the Circle became a valid target. The fact that the Council was successful just means they are more competent than the Circle. Of course, only your standing as an advocate means that you are still alive as the last member of the Circle. I understand you were considering laying down that burden?”

Darius sipped his tea. He smiled into it as Hamilton crushed another coffee cup. 

**********************************************************

“So, on the whole, that seems to have been well-executed and successful, without any losses,” Giles said with a small smile in the direction of Angel. “Hardly any infiltration necessary, and certainly no acts of evil.” 

Angel glared at him. 

“Good intelligence is ninety percent of victory. The other ninety-percent is overwhelming force,” Adam said.

“That's a hundred and eighty percent,” Angel growled.

“Like I said, overwhelming force,” Adam raised an urbane eyebrow. 

Angel moved his glare from Giles to Adam. Especially since he'd come in with a hand in the small of Buffy's back.

Darius cleared his throat. “Well, we've managed to negotiate the release of the option on several souls, the locks on others and the immortality of about three dozen operatives. And they'll hand over Sirk and three earlier traitors.”

“Who are probably being dealt with as we speak,” Gunn said with satisfaction.

“I feel that extracting much more than we currently have would force Wolfram and Hart to act against us. Though I don't doubt we could take them, we aren't prepared for it. We can't get the slayers together in strike groups with sufficient witches to ensure minimal losses on our side,” Adam looked around the table. “I'd advise that we accept the current offer. We've got what we needed, a lot of what we wanted and some things we didn't even know we wanted.”

Buffy nodded. “They'll be in disarray and we can go after them more carefully.”

“They've lost some of their most powerful operators,” Gunn asked. “Would they try to go against us if we pressed?”

“They have a lot of bodies and a lot of money. Mercenaries, lives, are cheap to them, both human and demon,” Buffy shook her head. “And our girls aren't used to killing humans.”

“And we'll try to keep it that way,” Faith said in a quiet voice.

Everyone nodded. 

“They're weakened, but I feel we currently have superior intelligence,” Adam looked to where Fred and Willow had their heads together and were giggling. “If we keep it separate.”

They stuck out their tongues. 


	38. Chapter 38

**Author’s Note**

**Many thanks as usual to my beta on this and so many other things, Cordyfan.**

**Chapter 38**

“Okay. Wolfram and Hart has agreed with the Judgement of the Stone. That means that we’re back to business as usual and the truce is over,” Buffy looked around. “Which means we have a slight advantage right now. They're still disordered. We still can't attack their holdings directly.”

“And that has to be the dumbest piece of negotiation ever,” Xander muttered.

“They had bigger holdings, more troops and a lot of demons,” Adam shrugged. “I did what I could.”

Xander blinked at him. “You...”

“I have been doing this a while, Xander. Even when I was killing people from horseback, I was still pretty sure I didn't want to be some demon's slave,” Adam smiled. “Especially then. I'd been commanding too long.”

“Can I go kill Hamilton now?” Spike asked. “He’s an annoying sod.”

Buffy pinched the bridge of her nose. “You can’t go kill everyone you find annoying, Spike.”

“Why not?” Spike frowned. “Seems like a good way to get rid of a bunch of annoyin’ people.”

“He’s actually a pretty powerful annoying sod,” Adam warned. “I wouldn’t want to face him.”

“In a fair fight?” Spike lifted an eyebrow at him.

“I never fight fair if I can help it,” Adam countered. “But he is very strong. He's been chosen and imbued with power by the Wolf, Ram and the Hart.”

“Right. Ought to be a good fight then,” Spike grinned. 

“I have some ideas,” Fred said perkily.

“You do?” Spike looked at her. “Not that you don't have great ideas, but you don't usually so enthusiastically join in on killing people.”

“Not usually,” Fred agreed. “But Willow tracked a payment from Seidel to Wolfram and Hart. For a book, and some instruction by Mr Hamilton in 'Public Speaking'.”

Her face was cold. 

“Right you are then. Let's hear those ideas,” Spike said agreeably.

********************************************************

The portal opened under his feet as he stepped out of the car. He fell into a swamp, stinking foetid water closing over his head. Vile matter flowed into his open mouth. He struck out with his arms and swam, surging to the surface.

He gasped for air. Something was clinging to his face. And his hands. Huge, lamprey sized leeches. He tore at them. Star-shaped wounds were visible, leaking blood. He swam to the shore, or at least something that looked like it was marginally higher and drier than the rest of the area.

He waded on shore, swearing as he tore off more leeches, crushing them in his hands, blood spurting everywhere. He had lost a lot of blood, a lot of power.

“I was gonna face you in battle, but Fred said that being brought low by a trap and a bunch of leeches would be a much bigger insult,” a voice drawled.

Spike rose from a bush and kicked him in the groin. Hamilton collapsed. Spike grabbed a leech and ran a hand down it, forcing it to spit the blood it had ingested into a glass. He drank it down. Then he grinned a bloody smile. “Time to put down a lot of pain. Wanna sip, Fred?”

“I'll just watch, thank you, William,” Fred said primly.

“That’s alright, as long as I can watch you and Red later.”

“Spike!”

************************************************************

Drusilla was running. Somehow, some way, they kept finding her. She had always managed to run before. But now she was cornered. 

She turned, eyes wide like a deer at bay, hissing, her beautiful face distorted in demonic rage. 

The hunters stepped out from the shadows. 

“You!” she said accusingly. 

“Me,” Darius admitted. “I’ve come to help bring peace to a child I once loved Drusilla, and to put an end to a great evil.”

“How did you find me?” Dru clutched her fisted hands in front of her chest as the three Slayers raised their crossbows.

“You are a Seer,” a woman spoke. “Had you been alive, you would have been a force for good. It saddens me to see you this way.”

“Fire at will!” Kennedy called out.

“Who are you?” Dru batted away one bolt.

“They call me Cassandra,” the woman said as Dru fell to dust. “I am sorry.”

Darius stood looking at the ashes as they were scattered by soft gusts of wind for a long, long time. 

****************************************************************

“So they gave us a chance?” Lyndsey moved his hand. His new, non-murderous hand.

“Apparently someone spoke up for us,” Eve said. “Someone whose word carries a great deal of weight with the Slayer and her friends.”

“Her mother?” Lyndsey guessed. “Iudex Darius?”

Eve shook her head. “I met him once when I was a girl.”

“A girl?” Lyndsey frowned. “I thought you were created?”

“I was, but I wasn’t created old,” Eve said. “I’m older than Marcus, though I was created for a different purpose. He is older than me.”

“He?”

“You know the Prophecies of the Prime Slayer?” Eve was looking out the window. 

“Yes. Well, many of them. Some at any rate.” 

“You know what an avatar is?” Eve turned back to him. “You know, I think I might want to become a doctor. We have money enough without Wolfram and Hart after us to settle somewhere. You can sing and practice law if you wish, and I can go to school. It’d be amazing to learn, not just know, and help people.”

Lyndsey blinked at her. “Yeah. Okay. So, a Hindu god?”

“No, the other one. The embodiment of a concept,” Eve smiled. “Northwestern?”

“Sure,” Lyndsey smiled back. “Far away from the Hellmouth. What concept?”

“Death,” Eve took his hand. “I remember him, from before death became gentle. We only have one chance at this, Lyndsey.”

He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You’ll be the best doctor in the entire world, ever.”

*********************************************************

“Hello Adam,” Joyce said. “We should talk.”

“I suppose we should,” Adam held the door open further, to allow her to enter.

“Is Buffy here?” she asked with a slight smile?

Adam shook his head. “Out on patrol. Though she gave me a rather anxious look. So I assume you told her you were coming for a visit? Tea? Coffee?”

Joyce nodded. “Cappuccino?”

Adam went to make it. 

“You’ve no doubt heard something like this before. But I may be a bit more of a threat than the typical mother. I still have a little of the power of the Theurgy,” Joyce said. “You will not hurt her.”

“Never intentionally,” Adam said. “I swear it on myself.”

Joyce lifted an eyebrow. “An interesting oath.”

Adam smiled winningly. “Some would say I’m an interesting man. But I will stand by her for as long as she will have me, and beyond.”

Joyce nodded. “She needs someone to call her on her bullshit, but she needs someone who loves her, too.” 

***********************************************************

“That seems to have dealt with most of the immediate threats,” Giles said. “Ethan, stop that,” he added irritably.

Ethan smirked at him and put down the cane they’d taken from Cyvus Vail’s stronghold. “Don’t like tap-dancing, Ripper? Or do you prefer to do it in fishnets and high heels?”

Giles spluttered. 

Everyone looked at him. 

“Dear Ripper has a long and chequered past.”

Giles glared at him. “He means to say we did the Rocky Horror Picture Show with the Cambridge Footlights.” 

“Ooohhh,” Willow grinned. “Do you have pictures?” 

Ethan grinned back. “I got moving pictures, darling.”

“Right. Carrying on with the important business,” Giles said pointedly. “We are now faced with the question with what to do, if anything, with the resurrections granted us by the Judgement of the Stone.”

“I think we need to think about that a bit more,” Buffy said, her voice cool. Adam reached out and took her hand. 

“Then I suggest the meeting is over,” Giles rose. “Ethan? A word?”

“Will it involve spanking?” Ethan asked as he got up.

“No,” Giles said dryly. 

“Really Ripper, you’re no fun any more.”

**************************************************************** 

“So what are we going to do?” Buffy asked as she looked down the list. “Going to bring them all back?” 

“Not all of them will want to return,” Willow said. “Most of them won't. But we can make sure they aren't, like, bothered by evil.”

“That would be of the good,” Buffy nodded. “How do we know who does want to come back?”

“Adam had a ritual,” Willow said uncomfortably. “It’s part of the Rituals of Osiris.”

“Which he would know, because he, like, was the guy,” Buffy nodded. “Got lost?”

“Yeah,” Willow nodded. “But I might not have used it anyway. I was totally in a one track mind mode of thought. Bring you back.”

“Sean still talking to you about your addiction?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah,” Willow admitted. “He's says it’s a risk I run.”

“And your other addiction?” Buffy grinned.

“What other addiction?” Willow asked cagily. 

Buffy fished under one of the couch pillows and came up with a pair of panties. “Tacos?”

Willow blushed and grabbed for the panties. “Gimme that!”

Buffy laughed and handed them to her.

Willow tucked them away. “Okay, so Fred and me, we're very happy, okay?”

“Glad to hear it,” Buffy smirked.

“And I'm betting Dawn is totally happy to have gotten an all clear on the concussion front,” Willow said. 

“And Faith is a lot happier with a steady boyfriend who understands about dark secrets and growing up on the streets and isn't quite as judgemental.”

“We'll need to see if we can get Anya back. Cordelia and Xander are, like, eyeing each other,” Willow grimaced, mentally counting the ways that could go bad. “Now that Angel left to go and mope as the Guardian of the Southern Deeper Well for a couple of centuries.”

“Anya may not want to,” Buffy shook her head. “We'll need to look into Jenny, Miss Calendar, not Guinevere, too. She might keep Giles out of trouble.”

“She didn't manage that last time,” Willow pointed out.

“There's always hope, Will,” Buffy sighed. “Maybe keep him in bed when he has a concussion.” 

“That's not hope, Buffy. That'd be a miracle,” Willow said.

“So, did you enjoy eating tacos with Fred?” Buffy grinned.

Willow blushed beet red. “So. Did you enjoy five thousand years of skills?”

Buffy sighed wistfully. “Honestly? I'd like to lock us into a room for, oh, a few months and just enjoy it.”

**************************************************************

_Epilogue_

Buffy puffed and groaned. She glared at Adam. “Stop looking so damned happy!”

“Sorry, love,” Adam smiled as she gripped down, hard. It would take a while to heal from that. It was worth it. 

Buffy blew a strand of sweaty hair from her face. “I thought this couldn’t happen?”

“It never has before,” Adam pointed out. “And you just have to look at Duncan to see it should have if it was ordinarily possible.”

Buffy groaned through another contraction. “Well, if it’s a boy, we’re not naming him after your brothers!”

On her other side, Joyce smiled.

************************************************************

**End note:**

**This story is most respectfully dedicated to the memory of Sir Roger Moore, humanitarian and actor.**

**Most of the references to films and series in this story are from his considerable body of work.**

**You can think for yourself who came back and how happy people were with that.**


End file.
